


someday to somewhere

by epiphyllous



Series: the world is yours to keep [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Budding Love, F/M, Falling In Love, Family, Friendship/Love, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, My First Work in This Fandom, Self-Insert, Slow Burn, Will add more tags and characters as I go, and by that I really mean you're from the modern world, if you've ever wanted a family like the Whitebeard pirates, takes place before canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2020-05-12 04:25:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19221535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epiphyllous/pseuds/epiphyllous
Summary: Never in your dreams would you have ever imagined yourself being a part of the Whitebeard Pirates, sailing in the New World, and finally meeting Portgas D. Ace whose death in the manga made you cry for days on end. (And you still remember how Luffy's heart broke, how his family cried and put a tomb for both him and his father in the New World after the Paramount War. You walk on the same ship as those who you've seen through a looking-glass mourning for their dead brother.)Yet you're here on a pirate ship, as a pirate, and people aren't dead.Now you'vemetAce, who, if you don't start resuscitating him now, will have a tombstone that reads "died from inhaling soup."





	1. someday

**Author's Note:**

> a realistic rendition of "what happens when you suddenly find yourself in the middle of nowhere?" One Piece version
> 
>  
> 
> (thank god you're CPR certified)
> 
> (unbeta-ed pls forgive me)

You never really liked the salty taste of the ocean air. It smelled strongly of seaweed, which was overpowering and heavy. To be able to face the sea with a breath of fresh air was an experience to behold. Had this been a vacation, you would have taken at least several pictures with your phone and made a comment about them to your parents.

There were various reasons why you did neither.

One, you didn't have your phone, which was an immediate reason for you to panic. Your life was literally in that phone; where on earth would you have left it if not in your pockets?

Two, you weren’t with anyone. Your parents were nowhere to be seen and without your phone (though you doubted you would have service), you couldn't call them.

Three, you had no clue where you were.

Four, most importantly, you didn't know how you got here-- and that was by far one of the most frightening things you realized.

You look out into the blue, clandestine ocean with a feeling of growing dread that even the sunny skies and cool breeze could do little to ease.

 

 

Staying in one place in hopes someone was looking for you quickly grows more tedious than anything. You adjust your jean jacket as you walk in your white shoes beyond the trees and rocks. Your heart beat anxiously as you take a deep breath in to maintain a sense of calm you didn’t feel.

You yelp when something fell at your feet and consequently stare at the branch of dates that had separated from its mother tree. It’s tempting to eat it--- not that you’re hungry at the moment-- but if you were truly on an uncharted island, alone, no one would save you if the dates turn out to be poisonous.

That was a scary thought, wasn't it? To truly be alone.

You walk over the dates and continue on.

The trees grows thicker and the rocks darker. You shudder and decide to walk the perimeter of the island, to at least understand the depth of the rain forest and avoid the shadows of the island. (You were always afraid of the dark-- and you recall that as a young child you couldn’t explain why. But now you understood that it was because you could not possibly defend yourself against things you could not see.)

Placing your small footsteps into the sand, you put one foot in front of the other. It was difficult to fathom that this was anything but a dream, and without a proper clock, there was no way to tell how long you walked. You peer into the distance, slightly alarmed to see a dark spot on the beach. It looks like a mass of seaweed from afar but the closer you walk, you realize that it’s a person.

_A person?_

You break into a run as you approach the body on the shore, concerned for their health and exhilarated that-- finally!-- there were people.

"Hello?" You ask, kneeling immediately down to the person whose cheek laid on the sand. "Are you okay?" You shake the person's shoulder, and your heart drops as quickly as it had soared when you realize that they weren't breathing. Your hand trembles when you press your two fingers into their carotid artery to feel no heartbeat.

 _CPR,_ you remind yourself shakily, blood rushing in your ears. You knew CPR.

 _1, 2, 3, 4..._ You place your hands together and pump his chest (his? he’s dressed like a woman but then again, who are you to assume) to a rhythm you muttered under your breath. For every 30 beats, you breath for him then take your small hands and begin to beat his heart to life again.

It is as tiring as you could have imagined-- trying to save a life. The physical exertion of pushing down on ribs plus the emotional exertion of a person's life on your hands made you breathless and your arms weak. But at least you’re doing something, you think desperately, something you knew how to do.

And it wasn’t as if you were totally selfless. You wanted someone to help you too.

 

 

You witness a miracle when the man comes back alive, coughing out sea water and heaving in air. Without really understanding why, you begin to laugh and then sob into your hands as the man thanks you for saving his life with a grin.

 

 

He was a man, Izo explains to you. "Women's clothes are just more stylish than men's, don't you agree?" He simpers, and you laugh partly in agreement and partly in awe that the man who had been dead a minute ago was talking fashion.

"So? Can I know the name of the person who saved my life?"

You flush, at both the late introduction (saving someone's life had to be something beyond first base) and the insinuation that you were able to do something as profound as saving someone’s life.

"Cute name," he comments, smiling at you easily. "Care to tell me where we are?"

Your voice catches in your throat at the sudden question, and when you see Izo watch you in concern, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. "Oh, wow, uh," you say with nervous laughter, "I--I dont-- I dont really know. I don't even know how I got here."

_Where were your parents?_

_What happened?_

_Are they okay? Are they safe?_

_How are you going to get back home?_

With these thoughts running through your head, you can only feel a violent fear course through you.

You speak without pause, trying to find an answer you don't have, until a gentle hand rests on your shoulders. "Hey," Izo says soothingly, and your thoughts slowly quiet. "It's alright. Do you know where your home is?"

"I-I do, but--" you babble, "I don't know where to get back or--"

Izo shakes his head. "That's not what I meant, hun." Your eyes prick with tears at the endearing nickname. "I meant to ask if you had a place you called 'home.'"

Home.

_A place that made her doze off with a feeling of safety. A house with a family who was always happy to see her back. A community that had people you loved and familiar roads to walk._

You manage to give him a wet smile as he watches you sympathetically. "Yeah," you say quietly, "I do."

Nodding as if satisfied, Izo takes his hands off of your shoulder. "Good. I'm sure we'll try our best to get you back home, wherever that is. I may not be the best with navigation but I have people who are." He glanced at the ocean and back, not seeing the bewildered expression on her face. He shaded his eyes and widened them when a speck of a ship appeared on the horizon.

"Oh, there they are, _hey--!_ " Izo calls out, wincing after a moment of raising his arms.

"Sorry!" You blurt out, holding out a helping hand. "I'm pretty sure I cracked a rib when I compressed your chest."

"Stronger than you look, huh?" Izo teases, testing his chest with a tender finger. "No problem. Nothing a little sleep won't fix."

You let him go reluctantly. You twist your hands as you watch Izo absentmindedly feel his ribs. "Um... Are you sure you're okay with helping me find my home? I mean, I would appreciate a lift to a place with people too but..." You fumble, unsure how to form your words so that you wouldn't sound ungrateful, though it’s hard when you wanted nothing more than someone to help you home.

"My family's pretty nosey you know." Izo sniffs, beginning to cross his arms but thinking better otherwise. "We like to meddle into things that we aren't supposed to be involved in." He shrugs and continues to say, "And besides, I think they'd want to find some way to thank you."

"No, I couldn't really--"

You let your voice die out when you see the serious look Izo gives you. "Don't underestimate the power you have to save lives," he said gravely. "I would have died without you, and I hope you truly understand the gravity of that."

Blinking away another array of tears, you nod and wait with Izo for the ship in the shape of a whale came to pick them up.

 

 

The problem with being on the Moby Dick isn’t that you’re surrounded by a horde of pirate; it honestly should be one of your main concerns. The thought that you were on the same ship as countless of wanted men and most possible the strongest-- and largest-- men on the seas should terrify you down to your white knock-off Vans.

But it doesn’t.

Because you know.

You know what kind of crew these pirates were. You know what kind of man Whitebeard is-- or at the very least, enough to know that he isn’t the cruel, bloodthirsty pirate the world seems to think he is. Most of all, you know about Ace and Thatch and Teach-- and that terrifies you more than anything that this ship could do to you.

You watched the events that unfolded on your screen, never expecting that you would actually have the chance to meet them in person. If you had the slightest possibility that you would look at, say, Marco in the eyes after knowing that his brother and father would die in a war, you would have never, ever _dared_ to watch it unfold and encroach on their privacy like that.

Yet here you were. And you pray to whatever could help you, as you meekly follow Izo on board the ship, to never reveal your secrets.

“Don’t be so stiff!” Izo tells you, smiling widely, looking glad to be back with his crew. “They won’t bite!”

You don’t know how to respond to that except with a weak smile. You glance around you, overwhelmed by the enormity of the ship and the loudness of a crowd of people who you didn’t know.

_“Izo, you know how long it took for us to find you!”_

_“Can’t believe he shows up--”_

_“Commander, we missed you!”_

You must have missed a conversation or two because suddenly Izo is presenting you as the person who saved his life. Almost immediately, the attention shifts to you, and it takes everything inside to not hide your face in embarrassment and they all begin to look at you like you just lifted an entire island with your pinky.

"It-- It's no problem," you say, putting a hand up to your cheek. Your face feels hot as the crew looks at you with a sort of admiration you would never have expected to be the receiving end of, not to mention from men who could probably single-handed beat you in a fight. Then again, you suppose strength wasn’t _everything._ "I wouldn't have wanted him to die in the first place."

“Lucky you, Izo, meeting a nice person on a deserted island,” a man who you already know to be Thatch teases. “If it were the marines, they’d drag your body back to headquarters.”

You can’t help but look at the man as if you’re seeing a ghost.

“Lovely imagery, thank you,” Izo says disdainfully.

Thatch turns his attention towards you and you quickly let your face fall into a neutral expression. He grins at you and pats you on the shoulders. “Don’t look so grim!” He says cheerfully, “It’s not like we’re gonna eat ya!” He winks. “Though I would eat you up if you were served to me on a silver platter.”

You aren’t sure whether to blush or laugh so you settle with doing both.

“Evidently, he’s the cook of this ship,” Izo supplies, shoving Thatch’s face away from you. “And a nasty flirt.” Daring for Thatch to contradict him, Izo stares at the cook who looks mildly offended.

“I’ll have you know that I’m also the 4th Division Commander,” Thatch argues, though you note in hilarity that he hasn’t denied his other two titles. He shoots Izo an equally steady gaze, much to your entertainment. “If you haven’t forgotten.”

“Sometimes I wish I did,” Izo responds nonchalantly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What I’m trying to say is--”

Your attention is taken away from the conversation when a man with dreadlocks approaches. (He's definitely one of the commanders but who--) “Regardless, we’re glad you’ve returned safely with your friend in tow,” he says. He nods towards you respectfully, which makes you remember something else.

“Oh, Izo,” you say in concern. “I forgot: you need to get your ribs checked out.”

The man in question blinks, having forgotten he was injured just as much as you did. He pulls at his kimono and looks at his chest mildly. “Oh, right,” he says, unnerved. Thatch coos at him, intending to give him a heavy pat on the back when Izo turns around to glare at him.

“Don’t you dare!”

“I wasn’t going to do anything!”

“Izo, go visit the infirmary and have the nurses check your injury.”

Izo turns around, hands still crumpling Thatch’s shirt as he lifts him into the air. Your eyes follow and your breath hitches when you see Marco the Phoenix jump from the ledge he was sitting onto the deck. (You may or may not have had a small crush on the 1st Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates before, but you can only feel a twinge of guilt now at your first meeting because you know more about him than he would ever want to share to you.)

“You got it,” Izo easily agrees.

Thatch gasps as he is let down from the choking grasp. “He’s fine! Didn’t you see him manhandle me?”

“Better to be safe than sorry,” Marco drawls, and you subconsciously nod in agreement. “You’ll be back in time when we have a proper introduction of your friend,” he says, lips lifted into an amused smile. He looks to you and addressed you directly. “Sorry, but you’ll have to meet our Captain first. That's how it goes on this ship.”

“Oh, right!” Thatch supplies with a twinkle that you would later recognize as mischief. “You need to meet Pops!”

Your mind blanks.

“Who?” You ask, though you know very well who they were referring to as they spoke excitedly to each other.

“Oh, you’re right!" Izo agrees, looking at you expectantly despite your expression of horror. He swats away Marco's exasperated gaze and beams. "I can’t believe I almost forgot!

"Wait, wait," you rebut quickly, backing away ever so slightly. Izo grabs you by the wrist and continues to drag you toward the hull with Thatch behind you, a grin fixated on his face. It’s as if he knows that his captain is a humongous man the size of a house with the power of a thousand men. In the haze of your panic, you wonder if you even reach his ankles. "What am I supposed to say--?”

You press your lips together as your words die out when you see a man who is quite literally four times your size. (You’re around 5’2 on a good day.) His grey eyes glance over you briefly before addressing Izo and Thatch, who smile up at him.

"Who have you brought to me, boys?" Whitebeard speaks, and you can feel your heart race at the realization that you were about to speak to him. Luffy may have done it without fear… _but he’s an idiot,_ you wail inwardly, unable to even fathom _speaking_ to Whitebeard without stuttering for _god’s sake--_

"Pops," Izo begins, interrupting your chaotic thoughts. He looks at you with unabashed amount of fondness, and you flush, feeling once again like you didn’t really deserve that type of expression.

Izo gives you no time to feel embarrassed, cutting straight to the root of the conversation. "I was dead when I got on that island, Pops,” he says somberly. You feel yourself tense, but as you give furtive glances to the other division commanders that came along, you realize that you weren’t the only one affected by his words. Izo pauses. “But she brought me back to life.”

 _I saved someone,_ you think, the reality of it becoming more tangible as you watch Izo’s family-- rightfully labeled-- look at you with a silent appreciation. And a shiver runs through your body.

“I see,” Whitebeard says solemnly.

Even as he shifts his gaze on you, you continue to look at Izo. “I have never encountered a stranger who has helped me in such a way,” he admits. “Her arms and hands still shake because of how much strength she had to use to revive me.”

You didn’t realize he noticed. You blink away the wetness in your eyes.

“That’s why I want to help her, if I can,” he says. “She’ll be my responsibility, when it comes down to it, so, Pops…”

At this, you look up and meet eyes with Whitebeard himself, who gazes at you as if he can see through your soul. For a brief moment, you think he can see how much you know and how dangerous you possibly could be with all that knowledge of what’s to come. He looks away in a moment, making you wonder if you looked half as panicked as you felt.

"I am glad that someone was able to help you when you were in need." Whitebeard says thoughtfully, "And you would like to repay the debt?”

“Something like that,” Izo says, smiling with teeth bared as if he kept a secret in his mouth, “among other things.” The small, hidden conversation between the two of them go unheard by you.

Whitebeard’s laugh is deep and resounding, and you feel the plank below you shake from its strength.

“Interesting,” Whitebeard says, grinning down at Izo who matches it. “Be more careful next time around, will you?" He tells his son kindly.

With a nod, Izo turns toward you with an encouraging smile, and one by one the division commanders file out, leaving you in a private space with Whitebeard.

It is an experience, having the full, undivided attention of the Strongest Man in the World.

 

For the first few minutes of the conversation, it feels similar to an interrogation. He asks gauging questions like “Where are you from?” or “What do you do?” and even “How old are you?” You tell him that you’re from the west coast of America and that you’re a college student at a public university, hoping to graduate and gain entry into a nursing school. All things you know very well he would not recognize-- but you weren't going to lie to someone like him.

You describe the world you're in with as many defining details as possible. Roads, street lights, cars, airplanes, phones, internet-- and the more you talk, the more you realize how utterly insane you sound. Though in a world propelled by science and religion, you suppose a universe split into five seas dominated by pirates or marines would be hard to believe in for you too.

At the end of your tirade, Whiteboard only waits for at you patiently and asks you one question.

“Do you want to go home?”

You think back to your life, full of worries and expectations and responsibilities you could escape from. The opportunities you could have here, starting anew. But then you think how lonely you would be, and how homesick you already feel when you think about the people you left behind. (Because more often than not, it is the people that make it feel like home.)

You respond with trembling lips, "Yes."

Whiteboard breathes in deeply, watching you with a fondness you never would have expected from him. “I will tell you honestly: I do not know the place in which you hail from," he says, and you try your best not to show how much that disappointed. "It sounds very unlike any place I have seen, and I have traveled to many islands."

“However," Whitebeard continues warmly, "I will give you an old man’s promise that you are welcomed on this ship until you find your way back home." His eyes twinkle. "I’m sure my men will be happy to help you as well.”

You stand there, shell shocked until you remind yourself of your manners and bow deeply. "Thank-- Thank you so much!" You stammer, "I'll-- I'll try my best to help around on this ship."

"I'm sure you will find a place for yourself here," he says, grinning, and you can't help but smile back at him with the hopes of “someday."

 

 

You are aware that the Whitebeard pirates are split between the fighters and the nurses, who seem to be predominantly, if not all female.

One of them-- Allison-- shows you to their shared rooms and your designated bed, a modest twin sized bunk with a small drawer underneath it. You take a moment to acclimatize yourself to your now-personal area, but without anything to store, Allison offers to give you a quick tour of the ship. "It can get pretty overwhelming," she says kindly, "but you get used to it. You can always ask anyone if you ever get lost, okay?"

A lot of the boat terminology flies over your head when she tells you where places are. The messhall is in the base floor near the bow of the ship; the rooms are amidship but the nurses' sleeping quarters were on the portside, but to get there you have to go around the hull on the deck and-- _well._ You remind yourself to write everything down when you have a chance after you ask her what's the "left side" of the boat (port) versus the "right side" (starboard) and which "left" she meant for the third time.

"I'm serious," she says to you with laughter in her voice when you mumble an apology. "You don't have to be sorry for anything! We're here to help each other out!" She opens the door to a large space that looked like a hospital, with beds placed evenly apart with clean sheets on each one. "And besides, I heard you were a nurse too, so you can bet I've got your back! And so do the rest of the girls!"

"Oh, actually, I'm not a nurse... yet," you explain when she looks at you. While you would prefer people to think you're competent, you wouldn't dare cross the line with "fake it 'till you make it' when it comes to handling the lives of others. "I'm only a student, and I haven't really learned--"

"That's no problem!" She says easily, tying her blonde hair up into a neat bun before you could blink. "You can just learn now-- _here, use my hair tie-_ \- because we all started somewhere, right?"

You take the hair tie from her without question, unable to even stammer out a proper response. Was everyone on this ship a force of nature? You think incredulously right before the doors slammed open and several voices flooded in.

_"Nurse!!"_

_"Don't get mad but-- oh, is she new?"_

_"--supposed to be purple like this?"_

Allison glances over with a knowing look and smiled widely in spite of your silent panic. "You can watch me patch up his hand, and maybe you can do the next one?" She says to you, making it sound less of a question and more of a plan of action.

You can only nod vigorously, putting on gloves as your excitement grows from learning something first-hand. She tells you to hand her forceps (the clippy thingy?) and the gauze. Then to hold someone's arm up while she puts it in a cast. She hands you the bandage to wrap around a sprained ankle while also introducing you to the man whose foot you held (with gloves) and also the nurse who brought him in (her name was Yuna). You find out that _no, your finger is not supposed to be purple_ and that while the men were the offense, the nurses were their defense and all of them were needed in equal parts on this ship.

There may not have been an official welcome, but you find yourself fitting right in without a hitch.

And in this moment you can't help but admit that Whitebeard was right. You would find a place here, whether it's because you carved it yourself or the people on this ship made room to fit you in. And maybe being here wouldn't be so bad, if you were always busy laughing and learning. Whatever you faced, whoever you met was something to think about when it happens but right now, you would live in the moment.

This you _definitely_ couldn't get at home.

"Uh, Allison, I put teeth in milk, right?"


	2. someplace to be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is these kind of moments that make you feel like you're hanging on the side of a cliff, reminding you how much you actually adore the character-- _person_ in front of you. 
> 
> or: meeting Ace

It’s easy to not feel homesick when you’re constantly doing something.

Whether it’s furiously reading more on medical terms or fixing up someone’s sprained ankle, you barely have time to stop, let alone think. It is nice, though, to be immersed in an environment that so readily welcomes you despite being a stranger. But you suppose you’re hardly strangers to any of these folks now, considering the hours of talking in the shared rooms and the other half of the day spent working side-by-side in the infirmary. 

With hundreds of men and a few dozen nurses on this ship, you would expect to be familiar with only a few people. You surprisingly see the same faces saying hello to you everyday and actually remembering their names after the first few days. You eventually are introduced to most, if not all, the crew. There are a few names that escape you, because really, there was no chance you were going to memorize a few hundred in a span of 48 hours. 

The commanders of each division are not as elusive as you thought in terms of meeting them on the ship. In fact, you see Izo or Thatch practically everyday. Thatch, because you like visiting the kitchen and catching a few bites from cooks who indulge you (Thatch included). Izo because if he doesn’t spot you in the mess hall, he physically drags you somewhere so he can eat with you. You suppose it’s a part of “his responsibility” but you don’t really mind having someone’s consistent company, especially company as vibrant as his. Usually he’s accompanied by Thatch, who makes the time spent even more entertaining, but you refrain from commenting on it lest they turn their chaotic energy toward you. 

About two weeks on the Moby Dick, you have the opportunity to meet Jimbei, the “First Son of the Sea.” When you watch him leap up from his own ship, your first thoughts are that you really underestimated how tall he was. (And _blue_.) 

It was understandable; it’s hard to visualize how tall people really are in this universe, considering how gigantic people can get (point in case, Whitebeard). The fact that you’re short doesn’t really help either. 

As you could imagine, you have a pleasant conversation with him-- or, well, you hope he thinks it was as pleasant as you did. According to Vista, you were visibly excited to talk to him and asked him a lot of questions about his adventures. 

“Are you interested in going to Fish-Man Island?” Vista asks, sitting in the vacant seat that Jimbei left when Marco had told him Whitebeard was expecting him. 

“Wouldn’t you?” You say, grinning widely, just thinking of the aspect of meeting mer-folk and being underwater. “It would be so cool to be able to meet people from there, eat their food, wear their clothes-- I mean, that’s a whole new world down there!”

At this, Vista looks thoughtful. “We could stop by there one of these days; it has been a while since we last checked up on it.” He chuckles when you gasp in anticipation. “I just thought…” He looks at you for a moment before shaking his head. “Never mind,” he says, smiling and ruffling your hair. “On another note, Jimbei looked pretty happy being able to talk about everything…”

\--

Jimbei isn’t the only ally you had the chance to meet. On other weeks, there are visitors, more notably captains like Whitey Bay and the Decalvan Brothers. There are also weeks where no one comes and still, there were people you were expecting to meet.

At one point, you wanted answers. 

“Who’s the 2nd Division Commander?” You ask Marco casually when he comes into the infirmary to check on the supplies. You prepare to explain why you were asking, but Marco makes it easier for you by simply answering.

“Oh, I had forgotten you hadn’t met him yet,” Marco replies, adjusting his glasses as he reads the latest medical reports. “His name is Ace. Pretty young; became a commander recently too. He’s actually been out for a mission, but he’s bound to come back soon.” At just the thought of Ace, Marco smiles wryly. “You’ll know when he’s back; you can’t miss him.”

You can understand, but you still ask. “Why?”

“He’s made of fire,” Marco says simply. You nod, but then he continues. “Also, he’s on the same level as Thatch in terms of chaos. I’m sure you get the picture now.”

You do. And you laugh at just the thought of having both of the most mischievous commanders back on one ship. “You really have your work cut out for you when he gets back, huh?”

At Marco’s exaggerated sigh, you only laugh more. 

\--

With how things went with the other commanders, you think that maybe with Ace, it would be relatively the same. Ace was friendly enough, charming, even-- and you had no doubt that you would be taken in by him immediately. (It was hard not to do the same with the rest of them, let alone Ace.)

Sometimes, you forget that the view that you see of One Piece is in the lens of mainly Luffy, who viewed Ace as his strong, big brother who admittedly had his funny moments, but was relatively more mature than he was. 

And you forget Ace is prone to trouble as much as Luffy is.

 

When you first meet Ace, Izo and Thatch are screaming in your ears to save him-- _please, oh god_ \-- and you barely have enough to time even think _holy shit, it's Ace_ before you usher them to place him on a lowered bed. Their panic is deafening, but when you finally raise your voice loudly enough to ask why Ace was unconscious and _not breathing_ , you find out that he had fallen asleep into his bowl and started to drown in his soup.

Never in your dreams would you have ever imagined yourself being a part of the Whitebeard Pirates, sailing in the New World, and finally meeting Portgas D. Ace whose death in the manga made you cry for days on end. (And you still remember how Luffy's heart broke, how his family cried and put a tomb for both him and his father in the New World after the Paramount War.) 

With that sort of emotional attachment, finally getting to meet Ace should have been overwhelming. Or at least made you tear up from the emotional impact that he was alive (uh, well, not at the moment).

But that happened, and you're on a pirate ship. And now you've "met" Ace, who, if you don't start resuscitating him now, was going to die from inhaling soup. 

Those instructors always said CPR was a great skill to have, but you were pretty sure they also said you wouldn't have many chances to use it in your life. (You reason they probably hadn't considered in the possibility of being a pirate.) But at least when Ace gasps for air, after your second mouth-to-mouth, you thank your lucky stars that you listened carefully and think to yourself that now maybe you would have a chance to actually properly meet Ace (alive).

 

Ace never fails to deliver. 

"Hi!" He says to you, startling you out of your thoughts as you dazed off from reading a medical text: _Underlying Symptoms of Sea-Bound Diseases._ A fascinating read if it weren’t for the font-ten text and lack of pictures. "You're the one who helped me yesterday, right?" He bows deeply without waiting for a response. "Thank you! I really appreciate it."

"I-- Yeah, of course," you stammer, not in any way prepared to react. Ace grins at you, and your heart leaps as you watch him nod in greeting and extend his hand. 

"I'm Ace," he says, and how strange it was to finally meet the man of the hour in such a predicted, underwhelming manner.

You tell him your name and shake his hand, watching him and trying not to look too starstruck. 

“Just Ace?” You blurt, though you had never called any other commander by their given title (though maybe you should), so why did you ask--

Ace laughs-- an achingly warm sound -- and you understand why. 

“Just Ace,” he repeats, eyes crinkled with mirth.

You open your mouth to respond, only to find that the wit usually at the tip of your tongue was no longer there. Though, you couldn’t really blame yourself. 

 

Meeting the Whitebeard Pirates was difficult at first, especially with Marco, but with time, you had grown to familiarize yourselves with them. Or in other words, acclimate. 

With Ace? There was so much more to meeting him.

It is these kind of moments that make you feel like you’re hanging on the side of a cliff, reminding you how much you actually adore the character-- _person_ in front of you. But it also overwhelmingly reminds you that you shouldn’t be here. 

_Despite the fact that you’re here, talking to him, the last moments you remember of Ace is his smiling face when he dies on a screen, leaving his baby brother and family to mourn--_

But what was the point of dwelling on that?

You sit down, finally, and smile teasingly up at Ace. “So,” you begin teasingly, “how was the soup?”

 

(Hilarious or not, your hands still shook after you resuscitated Ace. 

It was too much like Izo’s situation, and while it was funny solely because Ace survived, you couldn’t have imagined what would it be like if he hadn’t survived. Soup or not, Ace’s narcolepsy was actually dangerous, and seeing him not breath was a scare you would rather never come across ever again.

Still, you know better now, having Ace as your second patient who nearly drowned. You kept him under your careful watch, making sure that he kept breathing, and looking for any signs of pneumonia or any respiratory complications. (Liquid in your lungs tended to do that.) 

You honestly wouldn’t have left his bedside if not for the fact Izo urged you to eat someplace else and you trusted your fellow nurses who helped you save Ace. 

You don’t know how Ace knew who you were or what you did for him, but you guessed Izo and Thatch would never let him hear the end of what happened, let alone leave the deeds of his savior go unnoticed. You half-wish that maybe Ace was aware of what was happening during his time in the infirmary and sought you out himself, but you knew that was probably just wishful (haha) thinking. 

Not that it mattered much. You got to meet Ace after all, and you got to save a life. Everything was good.)

 

Being on a pirate ship, nonetheless, especially in the New World ( _The New World_ , you scream inwardly, remembering Punk Hazard and Godzilla-sized sea monsters) practically requires you to have some skill in survival. In fact, you don’t know how you had gone so far without learning how to-- _oh, I don’t know_ \-- punch someone in the nose or start a fire. 

And so, following first priority, you learn how to defend yourself-- sort of. (They don’t ask you why you want to, though they had perfect reason to. Nurses don’t need to fight-- you know that, but still. They just make time to teach you how, and that means a lot to you.)

You try to suggest learning how to wield a sword. When you first pick up a sword, it is immediately taken out of your hands by Haruta who says to you, without hesitation, that you were too weak to start swinging around a sword as a weapon. 

True, but ouch. 

Instead, they give you a rifle, which is considerably more dangerous and volatile, but it is relatively easier to carry (and swing). Certainly not your run-of-the-mill defense training, and when you ask Haruta why you couldn’t just learn jujitsu or any form of karate, he replied very vaguely and very ominously, “You’ve got to learn how to fight off things, not just people.”

You lift the rifle up and down, adjusting the way you hold it to make it easier for you to aim. It’s intense to hold a gun, let alone a rifle. Considering this is your first time holding any weapon, unguarded and unwrapped, you can feel the weight of having something in your hands that could kill someone. You shiver at the thought and hold the rifle with a tight grip to stop your hands from shaking. 

If it came down to life or death, you would have to use the gun to defend yourself, especially in the age of pirates. Maybe if you trained enough, you would be able to aim to not kill, and that thought already gives you relief--

Someone screams in your ear. 

You scream and jump, firing a rifle in the air in shock. You scramble to hold onto the rifle before it slips from your hands as you hear loud guffaws from behind you. With two hands on the gun away from the trigger, you finally spin around and glare at the idiot who scared you on purpose. 

_“What the hell, Thatch?”_

“That was-- _so funny_ ,” Thatch wheezes. He stands up straight, imitating your serious expression before copying your involuntary yelp and fumble with the rifle. He laughs again before having the air knocked out of him when you jab your rifle into his stomach.

You fume, indignantly arguing, “I could have killed someone!” 

Thatch snickers again. “Not with that sort of aim--”

“I wasn’t even aiming--” You stop mid-sentence when Thatch looks horrified and points to something behind you. You panic and turn around, rifle in hand, only to have your vision filled by Ace’s face.

You screamed again, and this time, you do drop your rifle. 

You can hear both Ace and Thatch laughing their asses off as you frantically pick up the rifle and hold it to your chest like it’s your baby. From the corner of your eye, you see Marco leaning on the wall, looking at you with a look of pity. He puts up an encouraging thumbs-up, then turns around and leaves. 

You jab at both Thatch and Ace, who only “oofs” and continues on talking to each other about scaring you every chance they have. You bemoan for all your days of peace-- gone, just like that.

Ace looks to you, a twinkle in his eye that says he was getting back at you for holding the soup incident against him. He asks, blinking innocently, “Just wondering, but which door do you use to get to the mess hall--”

_“I’m going to shoot both of you!”_

 

(From the back, Izo wipes at his eyes as Haruta takes his eyes off of the idiot trio and glances at the other commander incredulously. 

“Are you crying?!” Haruta sputters, watching Izo pull out a handkerchief from who-knows-where. 

“It’s just-- I’m so proud,” Izo proclaims. “My darling’s off threatening people with a gun already. And it’s Thatch and Ace! How perfect--”

Haruta looks into the sea, waiting for something to come and swallow him up.)

 

-

To say you have gotten close to the Whitebeard Pirates was an understatement.

You can proudly say you’ve gotten used to the different ways you interacted with the crew. There was the dry humor with Marco and Haruta, the pleasant but also wry conversations with Vista and Jiru, the silent, comforting company of Jozu, the older brother relationship with Izo, and the banter with both Thatch and Ace. 

With either of those two pranksters, it’s hard to not be on your toes, but they are also the ones you consider the closest to you on the ship, asides from Izo. It is so easy being with them that it gets hard not to compare it to the easy companionship you had with your friends back at home.

It has gotten to the point where you’re no longer scrambling to read books or get to know everyone and you no longer immediately knock out the moment you hit the bed. It’s usually when you’re alone at night with your thoughts when you start to feel homesick. In some ways, you’ve been working hard not to confront these feelings in all these weeks by being busy, not mentioning it to anyone, and pretending that you didn’t feel lost in a world like this. 

Whitebeard told you he would get you-- _try his best_ to get you home. 

Maybe you should have been the one to initiate the search, try everything in your power to find a way home. But what if you couldn’t? 

Despite being surrounded by people, you sure did feel alone sometimes.

You hear your name being called and you return from your thoughts back into the infirmary.

“Uh--” You stop yourself in surprise when you turn around to see Ace, pinching his bloody nose. “You’re in here again?” You say, your voice dripping with exasperation that he can feel by the way he grins sheepishly at you when he sits down.

"Thanks again!" He replies before you even begin to help him. 

You sigh as you grab a few tissues and dab at the blood, peeling his hand away. "What did you do?"

"Why do you assume it was my fault?" Ace asks, obediently lowering his head downwards when you instructed him to let out the blood. A bubble of affection makes itself known in your chest as you watch him grumble to himself.

You cannot stop the laugh that escapes your lips as you reach for the ointment in the drawer. "Fine," you relent teasingly, reaching down to lift his chin up. You smile at him indulgently even as he stubbornly maintains his frown in your direction. "What did Thatch do?" You amend. 

"It was Jimbei," came the nasally reply. 

You reel back slightly at his words. "Wh-- really?" Sparring was not uncommon on this ship, but you would have believed the Fishman would be more gentle to his face--

"Nah, I'm just kidding," Ace says laughingly, wincing when his jaw moved his face. "You were right; it was Thatch."

He barely muffles his laughter when you give him a deadpan. "Wait, hold still," you say, slowly lifting Ace's hand away from his nose to look at it clearly. 

There was clearly a bruise, but no evident break-- so you would not need to reset the bone. You smile at the sight of Ace's petulant expression and take the ointment in your hand and dab the cool gel onto his face. 

"Sorry," you tell him when he recoils from the touch. "I forgot that it was cold. It doesn't hurt though, right?"

"No, you're doing this too gently for it to hurt," Ace replies easily. His eyes follow your movement in lieu of moving his head, and you feel your heart soar at the comfortable silence that ensues.

 

It doesn't seem that living on this ship, with all these people, ever seem to get old. It still feels like a dream, you think, listening to Ace explain how Thatch had caused his bloody nose with a prank. (Not a surprise, you deadpan, making him pout at you; you still tell people about his soup incident.) Never in your wildest imagination would you think you would be sitting here, learning hands-on from esteemed doctors, helping out with the injuries of an animated-now-very-real person who you have watched at a distance. 

The fact Ace was attractive did add onto the experience, but even imagination had nothing on the opportunity to develop a genuine relationship with the high ranked commander. 

 

You hum in response when he calls to you, standing behind him to wrap the gauze around his head properly and secure his nose. 

"Can you tell me more about your home?" 

Your hands involuntarily jerk in surprise, pulling on the bandages you began to tie. 

Ace is quick to apologize upon seeing your reaction. "Sorry, didn't mean to alarm you,” he says, and you feel lucky that he isn’t able to see your expression. "I was just interested because you don’t seem to talk much about it, and everyone says it's like a different world.” He pauses briefly. “But, of course, you don't have to."

You don't answer his question. 

Instead, you ask him, "What do you want to know?"

You come around to sit back down, and the ache in your chest at the mention of home is worth the bright expression you win from Ace as a result. _Adore him any more and at this rate, you’ll become a puppy,_ you think wryly.

Still, the excitement Ace displays upon the chance of hearing more about you is nothing but heartwarming.

"What do the streets look like? The houses? The stores?" Ace asks

You close your eyes and remember. You tell him about sunny days and cloudy mornings. About the wide asphalt roads and bricked houses and tiled floors. About the streetlights and traffic signals ("Cars?" Ace questions, and for a moment you regret not learning exactly how cars worked besides key, engine, drive.) and busy streets and concrete sidewalks. 

All the while Ace listens, even after you begin to tire of your own voice and the ache in your chest soothes into the nostalgia of memories. 

Once you finish, you ask him, in return, what his home was like. 

You don’t expect him to answer. Most people don’t talk about where they came from or of their lives before, but he does.

Ace talks to you about East Blue-- of his rather unconventional upbringing in the mountains, a bandit foster mother, and the fact that he really had no roads at all aside from the cobblestone streets of a town he stole from. And you love the way his eyes light up when he starts talking about his brothers.

You already know all of this, but hearing it from Ace himself makes it all the more real. His voice paints the picture of Goa Kingdom and its residents in a certain color, and you are happy to have an insight on his thoughts as a friend rather than as an outsider. 

-

Ace does not make trips to the infirmary as often afterwards (thank god), aside from the occasional slip up. You expect to see him less, and while you are sad at the prospect of such, you are at least glad it means he is getting hurt less. 

To your surprise, you continue to see Ace, but outside of the infirmary. You would eat in the mess hall only to have the seat in front of you taken by Ace who would place his tray down and grin at you. It is not as if you sit alone; most of the time your fellow nurses would dine with you or the occasional Marco or Thatch. The commanders like to eat with everyone, and you are no exception-- though you like to think your company is enjoyable enough for a repeat performance. 

Ace still sits and eats and parties with the rest of the crew-- but you are still surprised every time he sits with you. You try not to overthink it; you enjoy his company and if he and the others find you enjoyable to be with, you weren't about to question it. 

It’s become a habit that whenever Ace does sit with you, he likes asking about your world. 

"You don't say anything about it unless someone asks you," Marco comments, after you finish a retelling of how you drove all the way to San Francisco from Southern California, and you nod in agreement. Why would you talk about something that none of them could relate to?

"It doesn't matter if we relate to it or not," Ace says, "I think its pretty cool to have such different experiences, don't you think? Kind of like how you want know more about Fish-Man Island."

You are not given much time to admire his straightforwardness (and thoughtfulness, because he remembered when you talked about Fish-Man Island as well) when he immediately faceplants into his chosen food item, hand still poised upward. 

You have begun a habit, more to tease him than anything and to get back at him for all his pranks, to steal his fork or his hat or his food (whichever seems funniest at the time), so that when he wakes up disoriented, he blearily wonders what went missing. 

"Huh? Where's my hat--?" 

You only giggle into your hands as he glares at you without heat. Before he can complain, you would talk about your dog at home or your classmates from school-- pulling him into a story you know he cannot stay mad during.

 

Not before long, it is as if you have been part of the crew for ages. You are aware of the time passing, but it makes you happy to hear a surprised "you mean you've only been here for a few weeks?" or "wait, I thought we met years ago." Even if they were joking, it makes you feel that you belong, not only here, but in this world. 

You look at this crew who has welcomed you with open arms and wonder if you should even want to go back home. 

 

-

 

You don’t usually talk to Whitebeard. 

It isn’t as if you purposely avoid him; Whitebeard is a popular man on his ship, and understandably so. Just from the first time you spoke to him, you can see the way he can make others feel when they talk to him that very few others can do so easily. Aside from Ace, Whitebeard is the only you’ve talked to about your home. If that doesn’t scream trustworthy to you, you don’t know what would. 

When you pass by the top deck of the ship, Whitebeard is there, sitting in his seat, surrounded by his sons, and you think to yourself how it must feel to be able to live out your dreams like that.

You aren’t sure if you linger longer than usual, but Whitebeard sees you and beckons you to come to him. You stutter in your thoughts and you point to yourself in question before he confirms without another nod and an amused grin. You can feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you walk up to Whitebeard feeling like you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar. (Funny how that is.)

“My sons,” Whitebeard says, and you never get tired of being in awe at how softly he could speak. “Allow me to have a word with her alone.” 

You let the others pass by you, grinning back at them momentarily and slapping their shoulders in jest as they tease you for “getting in trouble with Pops.” You know you aren’t, probably, but the thought of being called up to talk to the parents alone was, funnily enough, nostalgic. 

“I apologize for making you wait for so long,” Whitebeard says, and for a moment, you’re not really sure what he’s referring to. “There needed to be a time when all the commanders were available so we could finally set a plan in motion.”

“A plan?” You echo. 

Whitebeard looks at you with the gentlest of gazes. “A plan to get you home, my child.” 

You aren’t able to digest how that word makes you feel; you can definitely confirm that it brings up a certain emotion, but when you see the commanders walk up the deck, your mind is immediately preoccupied by something else. 

“Do not,” you warn, spinning on your heels to point accusingly at Thatch who suspiciously turns around, holding something behind his back. You narrow your eyes and put your hands on your hips petulantly. “Are you seriously trying to dye my hair orange, again? Can’t you make it another color, like green or blue?” 

“Well, if you like the color we spray on you, it’s not really a prank now, is it?” Thatch explains as a matter-of-fact, and you glare at Ace who grins puts his arm on Thatch’s shoulder. 

“I think orange is a great color,” Ace adds, whose grin only grows when you scowl at him. 

“Yeah, for clothes, maybe,” you retort, rolling your eyes dramatically, “not for hair. God, I hate you guys.”

“Aww, we love you too,” Thatch coos, making you snicker when he exaggerates his swoons.

Evidently, you aren’t really mad at either of them; it’s pretty easy not to be when you know all they’re trying to do is make you feel more comfortable. Ace more so than Thatch. You’re pretty sure that when the two of them together, they concoct the most diabolical pranks known to man, but Ace on his own is only a harmless trickster. 

To you, anyways. Izo and Rakuyo would disagree, as would a few others. 

"Causing trouble as usual, I see," Marco states dryly, who is among the many who tend to suffer the brunt of their pranks.

“The day is not done until someone or someone’s clothes have turned a color for the worse,” Rakuyo adds with the tone of someone who has experienced said situation.

Thatch confirms your assumption when he says, “It was one time!” 

“Boys,” Whitebeard says, and that is enough to quiet all of them. 

(Without knowing it yourself, you have begun looking at him with the same expression of reverence as the others.)

He looks at you and nods at you with an amused smile on his face, and you grin up at him in response. 

“Thank you for finding time to congregate,” Whitebeard speaks to all of them as they gather around you. You note this and shyly try to back up and join the circle, but Marco appears by your side and stops you from hiding. The amused glance he gives you is telling enough that he knows very well what you were trying to avoid: being the center of attention. 

“Don’t look so scared,” Marco says with a small smile, and you think to yourself that sometimes Marco is just as bad as Thatch and Ace when it comes to teasing you. “We just want to hear more about where you’re from so we can think together of where it is.”

You hesitate, not because you don’t want them to help, but because you know very well that none of them may not know where it is. And you tell them as much. 

Still, you elaborate more about your world and how it’s divided into seven continents and five oceans, not a string of islands into four blue seas. You describe the administration that you’re under, and how large the country you live in is when compared to the kingdoms of here. In fact, you tell them about area codes, street names, and even your own address. 

The more you talk the more you find yourself distressed by the lack of recognition on any of their faces, even if you expected as much.

“I really don’t think I’m from here,” you say, gesturing around you, as if that would make it more clear.

You watch Marco and Whitebeard share a look. 

“It does seem like you come from another universe,” Marco says thoughtfully.

“Perhaps there’s an artifact out there that can bring you home,” Fossa suggests, tapping his cigar over the side of the ship. “If we can find it again, we might get you home. Do you remember how you arrived here, on that island?”

With a heavy heart, you shake your head. 

“The last thing I remember doing in my world,” you lick your lips at the thought, “was falling asleep on my bed at home. And then I was on that island.” You laugh without joy. “I don’t even know how I managed to change my clothes; I was wearing a t-shirt and shorts before I was on that island.”

“The New World is a mysterious place,” Whitebeard says softly, and for once, you hate how tender his voice sounds, because it makes you realize how much you want to start crying. “There are places that even I do not know nor understand. Our lack of knowledge does not translate to the impossibility of your return.” 

“We should start gathering information,” Kingdew says gruffly, crossing his arms. “If we do not know something, there must be someone out there that does.”

You nod numbly. “Yeah, that sounds… good,” you end lamely, unable to conjure even the smallest of hope in your voice.

“Who knows,” Thatch jokes, “what if it’s on Raftel? That would make some sense if no one knows where it is.” And normally, you would have found that funny too. What were the odds that the location of One Piece was also where you would find a way home. That’d be something, wouldn’t it? But… 

You press your lips together in worry. 

If the only way you could go home was through Raftel, what were the odds of you ever going home? No one has found the place in god knows how long, so would that mean that you were never going home unless someone became Pirate King? And considering the fact that Luffy wasn’t even seventeen yet, it would take at least another two years before the two-year jump and who knows how long after that it would take for him to become Pirate King, and how would you---

“Hey,” Izo says, lifting your chin up. He smiles at you gently, holding onto your hands. “It’s going to be okay. Even if it’s on Raftel…” He shoots a glare at Thatch who smiles sheepishly and has to defend himself against Haruta who picks him up by the collar and Jozu who only looks at him in disappointment. “We’ll find out. Our first stop is Alexandria; they have the largest database there, and then we can plan from there.”

“If you have someplace to be,” Atmos, the 13th Divison Commander, says, stepping up to you, “the world will know. And things will follow suit, so do not worry, little one.” 

“I’m not that little,” you respond back automatically, but it’s hard to fake irritation when your chest has never felt so full. He winks when you give him a small smile.

“You are pretty short,” Ace teases, only laughing when you whack him over the head. “You’re with us now,” he tells you with a great sunny smile. “We’ll all try our best to get you home. You’re _nakama_ now!”

You blink away the wetness in your eyes at the valued phrase. You try your best to return the enthusiasm, but all you end up doing is offering him a wobbly smile. “Yeah,” you say, nodding with tears and sniffling lightly, much to Ace’s bewilderment. 

“S-Sorry! Did I--?” He stammers, and another flurry of affection bursts from your chest at how flustered he is at your tears. 

The commanders do not let this interaction go unnoticed. 

“Oh wow, Ace,” Thatch begins, grinning, looking a little worse for wear after Haruta. “You’ve got a way with words, don’t you? Lady killer!” He hoots.

"I underestimated you, Ace,” Vista comments lightly with a grin on his face. “I never would have believed you to be the type of man to make women cry." 

The amusement flies over Ace's head, and he looks to you like a puppy who chewed up your favorite shoes. The guilt is quickly gone when he sees you laughing.

"Better take responsibility, alright, Ace?" Marco tells him, ruffling his hair.

Ace pushes all their hands away with a pout. "Give me a break, will you?" He tells them with no heat, the smile back on his face; and the commanders laugh, you laugh, and your heart beats steadily with the knowledge that you have taken your first steps to coming back home.

 

 

During the day, you had an armada of family to combat the doubts that filled your head, but at night, you fought the battle yourself.

_You’re not trying hard enough to go home._

_Is there even a way to go back?_

_You’re just running away from your problems. Here and there-- what happens when a problem arises here?_

_Where would you run then?_

And often, you don't argue back because in some ways, you do agree. Your life at home, though you love your family and friends, wasn’t perfect-- you aren't perfect. You made mistakes that made it hard for you to climb back, ran into problems that you can’t fix, left a lot of people who were waiting for you to come back and a lot of things you wanted to get back to.

You remember back to your conversation with Vista and you understand what went through his head. You didn’t act like you wanted to go home at all; and if the crew didn’t have a set meeting with you to talk about it, they probably wouldn’t have known either. 

It was just a lot easier not thinking about it and the complexities that come with.

You remember your home, your family and friends. You wonder how long it should take until they lose hope, and what that would mean to them and to you. You think about the college you go to, the education you have paid for.

Most of all you dream of the combination of the two worlds-- the safe and grounding reality of school and planet Earth and the freeing yet dangerous life as a pirate on the Grand Line.

At the very least you would enjoy your time here, and you would not fault yourself for that. You have no doubt that Izo, and now the entirety of the Whitebeard pirates, would help you home. 

You miss your home, so maybe admitting that was a good start to somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> un-betaed, unless you count me rereading my work :^)


	3. the world's big enough (for the two of us)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alternatively, "partners in (reluctant) crime" 
> 
> Wherever Ace goes, you go-- and wherever he goes, danger follows. You aren't sure whether to laugh or cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this part haha finals week is always the best time to post a new chapter am I right?

The ship's destination is an island that is known to hold the largest library. Though, that is not where you stop by next. In fact, you're told that it's actually quite a few islands away, though you are also immediately reassured that it'll be quick and it's not a problem at all, so don't look so guilty!

The _Moby Dick_ docks at a tropical jungle island with a small town on the harbor. You had planned to get off the ship and stretch your legs, but nothing more. Two divisions are sent to recon the jungle for supplies they wouldn't have to buy. The rest of the ship could either stay or explore the town.

You are not surprised when Ace volunteers to go, but you did not expect him to walk to you, wide grin in hand and ask you if you wanted to join him.

Your heart screams yes, judging by the way it picks up its pace the moment you hear the invitation, but you know better than to trust that innocent-looking smile. "I can barely defend myself," you say, holding onto the rifle around your shoulder.

"It's fine!" Ace waves his hand dismissively, smile never faltering. "It'll be fun!" When you continue to look at the jungle, whose trees grew as tall as the clouds and back to him, he laughs again. "I'll protect you," he says, "I promise!"

And how are you expected to say ‘no’ to that?

 

You carry a bag of basic first aid supplies, borrow some shorts, and prepare yourself for the hike of your life. Marco gives you a 'good luck' wave before you turn around and follow Ace into the thicket of green.

The hulk of your rifle is a strange weight on your shoulders, but you figure a weapon in hand is better than none at all, even if you weren't quite great at using it. "I can probably use it and not end up shooting myself," you say to Ace when he points it out. "I think that's pretty good."

"I thought that not killing yourself would be the first thing Izo would teach you."

"He skipped all the way to 'Lesson 4: How to blow a man's head off in one shot.'"

Ace laughs and jumps up onto a large boulder with ease, turning around to crouch and lend you a hand which you readily accepted.

You find your balance on higher ground and look up at the height of the trees in awe.

"They're huge," you exclaim, looking at the way the forest floated way above your head and the ridiculous girth of the tree trunks. Ace chuckles at your awe and you swat at him for teasing you without a glance his way. The light that could peek through the branches cast spots of light on the forest floor, and you held out your hand, catching them whenever you could.

"Are all New World islands as crazy as this?" You ask, stepping on tree roots the size of your thighs as you make your own trail, Ace steadily following behind you.

"No," he replies, amusement coloring his every word, "they're usually even crazier than this." At your shocked expression, he laughs, only to cut himself off abruptly to look behind him.

Immediately, you're on guard.

"Ace?" You begin hesitantly, stepping closer to him the same time he reaches back to put you behind him.

"Can you hear that?" Ace tilts his head slightly to listen with his right ear, and you follow suit.

It sounded like thousands of footsteps. A stampede.

_A stampede?_

You squint into the distance and see a horde-- no, an _army_ of tiny monkeys that remind you vaguely of the Pokemon Aipom. You normally would have thought them as cute, but even a mob of monkeys coming toward you is enough to curb your loving instincts.

You scream. “What the hell--”

"Ooh, look at them," Ace says pleasantly, "it looks like there's about maybe a hundred of them--"

You grab Ace by the wrist and start dragging him away from the monkeys all the while barely keeping your terrified shrieks in. "Why are there so many of them?" You cry, holding your head as Ace runs next to you. Your feet catch on a stray tree root, but you manage to stay upright and running.

"I think there might be something chasing after them," Ace comments, glancing over at you when you trip again. He waves at you until you look at him, and before he asks anything, this time you actually _do_ trip over something.

You curse and spit out the tuft of dirt from your mouth and grab Ace's extended hand to stand back up. Instead of running, Ace kneels with his back turned to you.

"Climb up," Ace tells you, his arms in ready position to carry you piggy-back.

And suddenly you're reminded of the fact that Ace is, in fact, all muscle and _always shirtless_. You grit your teeth and chase those thoughts away and climb on, because being chased by wild animals was not the ideal situation to be hyper-aware that your friend was _hot._

Ace grabs onto your legs, and without warning, hoists you up higher and starts sprinting. You're too embarrassed to even thank him.

"Can you see what they're running from?" Ace requests. "I think that's going to be a bigger problem than those monkeys."

"Yeah," you acquest, craning your head and leveling yourself by keeping your hands on his shoulders. You peer into the distance, trying to see beyond the rather frightening scene of tiny, skittering animals, only to see a giant, rectangular mouth take a huge bite of a fallen tree trunk. You blanche.

"Ace," you hiss, like whispering will deter the wild animal from coming. "It's some huge alligator or-- or something!"

At this, Ace glances at you in concern. "An alligator?" He asks.

"Yes!" You reply back quickly. You wait for a response but it never comes, and you fret. "Ace?"

"But…" He says, sounding lost, "Alligators don't live in forests."

" _That's what you're concerned about?"_

"If it's an alligator--" _"It is!"_ "--then there must be a river nearby," Ace concludes. He nods decisively and turns to grin at you. "Hold on!" He tells you, and you hardly have enough time to throw your arms around his neck and wrap your legs around his torso when he jumps in the air and swings onto a high branch.

From then on, Ace leaps from branch to branch, and you hope you aren’t cutting off any circulation with how tightly you hold onto him. You think absently that if this were a jungle, he would be swinging across with vines.

“Hey, is it following us?” He asks, and you twist around to look for answers.

“No,” you reply, wincing as the alligator lets out a loud growl toward the frantically running monkeys. “They’re following the monkeys.”

After a few more leaps, Ace crouches onto a branch and sets you down carefully. He looked into the distance, and having decided something, nodded to himself. “Can you shoot at the alligator so that it comes our way?”

You blink. “Do you want to fight it?” You ask, even though you already know the answer. “This place is a little bit… flammable.”

At that, he grins. “I know; I was hoping we could lead it to a clearing,” he says. “Do you think you can do it?”

You look up at him, and instead of saying “I’ll try,” something in his eyes makes you tell him “I’ll do it” instead.

You brace yourself against the trunk of the tree and ready your rifle. You stable your breathing, hold the weapon up to your eyes, and aimed. And you shoot three times. Two times out of three, you get a hit, and the alligator’s attention is turned toward the two of you.

It roars, angry that you hit him rather than hurt from the bullets you shot at him. You feel a scream of panic bubble up as it crawls in your direction at record speed.

“Uh, Ace--” You yelp as Ace grabs you by the waist and hoists you over his shoulders. The fear you felt from seeing a rampaging animal target you is replaced by an embarrassment of feeling his hands on your legs, keeping you from falling. “Wha--”

“Can you keep shooting at him?” Ace tells you, and you try to crane your neck to talk _to_ him rather than to no one. “Make sure he follows us.”

“I don’t think he’ll have a problem with that,” you reply back dryly, though you lift your rifle and take aim again. You hold in an ‘eep’ when Ace jumps again, but you scramble with your hands and shoot toward the alligator like you promised. “You see anywhere you can fight it?” You yell back at Ace.

“Yeah, it’s pretty close-- hold on!”

“‘Hold on’?” You repeat in confusion, onto to see the line of trees suddenly stop when the two of you leap out of the forest into a clearing. You hear the sound of water flowing and look down to see a stream thirty feet below. You hold on.

When Ace lands, the alligator that had been chasing the two of you bursts out from the trees, angrier than ever. He puts you down onto the ground as the alligator crashes down right in front of you.

The bullets, as you expected, didn’t seem to even crack the armored scales of the crocodile, and you huff in disappointment. There were indents on where you made your mark, and when you look closely there’s a strange empty spot where scales should be. You prod at Ace.

“Ace?”

“On it!” He responds immediately, grinning, his fists already aflame. The alligator seemed to be somewhat cognizant that this was not normal, as it stares at Ace, at the fire, and then back at Ace.

You swear it starts to sweat.

“ _Fire Fist!”_

You put up a hand to shield yourself from the heat that emanated from the blast and wish you had sunglasses to protect your eyes from the light. In a short second, you hear the alligator howl and the flames grow hotter, and second after, nothing. You peek from behind your fingers and see Ace standing with his hands on his hips in front of a very much defeated alligator.

You reproachfully walk toward the fallen reptile and perk up when you realize it stopped moving. "Nice, Ace!" You compliment, crouching down to peer at its scales.

"Thanks to you," Ace says to you, stretching his arms in the air. The alligator was probably not even a warm-up for him in terms of combat, and you repress a sigh. "Looking forward to lunch now."

You glance up at him with a side smile. "But I didn't do anything," you point out, looking back at the strangely obvious weakness at the underbelly. You tilt your head and flick at the scales; now that you look carefully, it looks as if they were forcibly ripped off by something. Interesting. "This look like claw marks to you?" You ask.

At the detail, Ace perks up and grins. "I wonder if there's a tiger lord around here."

_"A what?"_

 

If you could assign an alignment to Ace, it would be chaotic good.

By the time you had stepped onto the _Moby Dick_ , wobbling legs and heavy eyelids, you had eaten for the first time, an alligator and a tiger. Not the typical ones you see in the zoo, because otherwise you'd have problems with Animal Services.

But you digress.

It seems that everything Ace does is done in a very unique manner that you can only imagine him doing. And sometimes, it doesn’t make sense to a lot of people-- and if that didn’t scream chaotic, you don’t know what would. (These brothers really are alike, you think to yourself, remembering how chaotic both Luffy _and_ Sabo were in their scenes.)

And…

Ace is a good person. You knew this long before you met him, but he constantly proves himself to be so. Asides from the fact he had fed all of the monkeys (who now look at Ace with unbridled adoration; you, less so) with the meat he hunted, he dragged back both the alligator and tiger so the entire ship could enjoy.

That, and you didn't realize before, but you didn't feel homesick at all today.

 

"Had fun?" Thatch calls out to you when you use the side of the ship to steady yourself. He watches you with a smirk you can see from miles away.

"Loads," you quip back with a snicker, feeling your leg give a particularly strong wobble in protest.

"Didn't cause that much trouble," Marco comments, sounding pleasantly surprised. He looks at the hoard the two of you brought back, Ace's unharmed body and your frazzled but nonetheless okay appearance. He stares at you thoughtfully. "Maybe I'll start pairing you two up for trips now," he says.

You stare back at him, but your eyes quickly glaze over from fatigue. "I… don't even have time to unpack all that," you say, stumbling.

Thatch catches you before you run into a wall. "Whoa there," he says, "can't have you fallin' for me now." He grins as you roll your eyes playfully. "Hey, Ace!" Thatch calls out instead, "Take responsibility and make sure she actually makes it to a bed before sleeping."

" _Bastard,"_ you mumble, and he only shoots you another grin before switching you off to Ace who matches Thatch's exuberance and endless energy.

You stand up straight and wobble yourself to the nurses' cabin with Ace not too far behind you. Once you reach your bed, you practically collapse onto the sheet, kick off your shoes, and sigh contently, closing your eyes.

You feel the side of your bed dip down as Ace sits next to you.

"Doing good?" He asks teasingly.

You smile widely and stretch your arms, prodding until you touch Ace's hand and give him a thumbs up. His laughter shakes the bed, and your smile stretches into a grin when you think about the events of today.

“How’d you know it was an alligator and not a crocodile?” He asks, sounding impressed.

“Don’t crocodiles have like,” you gesture with your hands without opening your eyes, “triangular mouths? I don’t know; I think I watched-- err, read that somewhere.”

Ace takes this answer in stride, either not noticing or not caring that you almost mentioned the existence of a television or even worse, the Discovery Channel. That would definitely be a ride to explain. You chuckle at this thought, vaguely aware that the commander on your bed would most definitely look at you with mild confusion.

For a few moments, the two of you sit together in a comfortable silence, letting the day’s fatigue wash over the both of you. You start to doze off when you feel him shift on your bed. You heard him breathe in deeply.

"You wanna... come with me again tomorrow?"

You open your eyes at his question and close them again when you see Ace's wide grin.

You laughed. "Why not?"

 

 

It becomes more of a habit and less of a question on how you get roped into Ace's antics. It isn't as if you look for trouble; it just so happens to find you and grabs you by the back of your shirt... as long as you're with Ace. And it's usually because _you_ think Ace is responsible enough to know better, but he has complete faith that you know better than to _think_ he knows better. (Now say _that_ ten times fast.)

Certainly not the worst kind of misunderstanding, but it's a little embarrassing for you to look at Marco when he has that deadpan as you explain to him why a marine battalion was chasing the two of you _again_.

Marco starts, exasperation drenched in his every word, "I really only expected this sort of behavior from Thatch and Ace, and occasionally Izo--"

_"Hey!"_

Marco looks pointedly at Izo before watching you, rather unimpressed, as you give him a wide, sheepish smile. "But you're more careful than this," he says, his foot on top of Ace, who conveniently had fallen asleep the moment Marco began his chastisement. "I thought you would balance out this idiot; how can you guys possibly be even dumber when you're together?"

"Hey!" You open your mouth to answer, shooting Thatch a glare when he snorted in laughter. "I resent that," you declare, feeling more indignant the longer Ace stayed asleep and you got the brunt of the blame.

You think back to what had occurred.

 

You and Ace had walked into town. It had a nice little port, much not much else aside from a small town with enough shops and stores to sustain itself and the life of the people living in it. You were never a step away from Ace, and though you didn’t mind being close to him at all-- hooking arms with him was easy to do-- Marco practically forced the two of you to stay together. You have a feeling it was because of Ace.

“You want something to eat?” Ace asked suddenly as you peered into a boutique with little trinkets.

You blinked, flattered that he would offer to get food for you, and you nod.

You don’t know how long you stayed there, staring at the cute hairpin you would never wear and thus would never buy. But Ace alerted you of his presence when he stood next to you and handed you an entire leg of turkey.

You grabbed it, not really knowing what it was until you turned and saw that the meat was the size of your head. You glanced sideways to see Ace stuffing his face full of food suspiciously quickly, and your heart dropped because _where the hell did he get this--  
_

You darted your head toward the voice of an angry chef, pointing out your location to two marine officers. You wordlessly glare at Ace who only widened his eyes at you innocently.

You hissed at him. “You stole the food--?”

Ace swallowed his food and glared back. “No!” He said, “No one was watching it so I just took it--”

“ _That’s stealing!”  
_

_“I’m a pirate!”_

Frustratingly sound argument aside, you heard heavy footsteps approach the two of you, and you look into the boutique glass windows and frantically thought of a plan of escape.

“Ma’am--” The marine addressed you, though you were quick to interrupt.

"Wait!" You exclaimed, hands in the air, though you quickly put them down when you realized the stolen food was in your hand. The last thing you wanted was to be a wanted criminal, and so desperate times called for desperate measures.

You cried in alarm as you pointed at Ace accusingly and forcibly wrapped his arm around your neck. "Help me! He's keeping me captive! I'm not with him!"

You really should have had a minor in acting, you think wryly, as Ace yells something muffled to you and the marine officers stared at you in confusion. Taking this chance, you grabbed his arm and jerked your head towards the shore, hoping he would get the message. With wide eyes and a slow understanding, Ace shoved whatever he had left in his mouth, swallowed, and-- instead of running away with you-- lifted you onto his shoulders (this felt strangely familiar). He ran.

By the time you had reached the beach, a whole crowd of officers had tried to corner Ace and that was when Marco spotted you. 

 

You pressed your lips together and pushed them out, not sure how to make an excuse. You couldn’t control the level of chaos Ace exuded, regardless of how much you tried (though to be fair, did you really try?). "To be honest," you say slowly, "Ace and I... only share one brain cell."

At another time you would have laughed at the expression on Marco's face. And also, your joke would have been funny if he weren’t so annoyed at the two of you. This makes you bristle more than the entire situation.

When Ace stirs, you glare at him and kick at his feet. "And if you hadn't stolen so much, maybe I would have been able to cover for you, you dumbass!"

Marco snaps, pulling at Ace’s ear, "So it is your fault all along?!"

_"Wait, Marco, I can explain!"_

You let out a long sigh as Ace gets the lecture he deserves after waking up. You were never one to cause trouble, and yet it came to you anyway, like a hoard of monkeys and a charging alligator in a forest. You mopily bite into the Turkey leg you still held onto.

“Why do these things keep happening," you sigh.

"That's just the consequences of being around Ace," Izo says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

You pout as you chew through your spoils of _crime._

 

Haruta ends up being your main mentor for haki alongside with Vista. You also feel like they were appointed as your designated babysitter, but you don’t see the point; the only time you exude any amount of chaotic energy is whenever you’re with Ace, though you can see how that would be hard to prove when you’re always around Ace. Regardless, it's an unconventional combo, but they work well together to teach you the basics of haki.

Well, much better than Thatch had tried to do a week earlier.

 

_(“Wait, so observation haki is like…?”_

_“Feelin’ the vibes. Like seeing… but with your eyes closed.”)_

 

They lecture you on the three types of haki, and though you did get some teases, you take notes on each type and every advice they give you on honing them. You are a student, first and foremost; the habits of twelve-plus years in the education system don’t disappear in a few months.

"Wait, so how do I…" You make a motion in the air with your hands. "Learn how to use Armament Haki? Since the other two seem to be more of a 'you either got it or you don't.'"

"Not exactly true," Haruta explains. “For Conqueror’s Haki, yes-- only those born with that type of power can use it. Observation Haki can be honed or even unlocked, if you want to be quick about it."

"Through some amounts of trauma and triggering event, but yes," Vista supplies, making you blanch.

"Okay, so that's off my list," you mutter, mentally scratching out the idea of learning quickly.

"Regardless," Haruta begins, snatching your notebook from your hands, "you need to train your body before you begin to think about training your mind." He looks at you, vaguely disappointed by your blank stare. "What were you expecting, a power up from just learning about haki?"

You bit back a petulant "yes" by pursing your lips into a pout that Haruta only rolled his eyes at. (Must have gotten used to Thatch's, you sigh.)

"What are you waiting for?" He snaps, sounding more and more like a drill sergeant, making you nearly salute in response. "Run ten laps around the ship!" He ignores your whiny protest and points away forcefully. "Go, go! I don't have all day!"

Groaning, you turn and start jogging in the direction indicated, sidestepping anyone in your path and frowning (though it looked more like pouting) at anyone who laughed.

Ace and Thatch were no exception.

You glare at Thatch prematurely as you slowly approach them and see his wide grin.

He starts teasingly, _“_ Look at you go! Only…” He checks his imaginary wristwatch. “...three more hours to go!”

“Oh, shut up,” you grumble, though you try not to waste too much air on arguing back. (Lord knows you can’t afford to be talking when you’re running.) Though, if you actually did take three hours to run ten laps, you were going to throw yourself overboard.

"Next time you'll be able to run so fast the marines will never catch us!" Ace calls out, and you can practically hear his grin.

"I’d just prefer if they weren't chasing us in the first place!" You snap back, immediately regretting how many seconds of not-breathing it took for you to say that. “Leave me alone,” you huff, definitely pouting now.

At some point, you pass by Haruta who looks at you without expression and hold back a groan. When you think about all the running you were able to do while fearing for your life and being chased by monkeys, ten laps should really not feel this soul-sucking.)

But at least you only had nine more laps to go.

You weren’t going to lie to yourself that you loved exercise, but if something had to be done, you would see that it gets done. You knew very well how strong you would have to become to survive in this world, and more importantly, you would have to be strong enough to not need others to protect you.

And maybe in the future, you think to yourself, looking over at Thatch and Ace who were cheering for you, you can be strong enough to protect other people. (And by God, you wanted to protect them.)

You stick your tongue out at them, not unlike a 3rd grader, and pick up the pace.

 


	4. uncharted territory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Whitebeard Pirates becoming more like family, your relationships with the commanders and the crew weren't the only ones developing. 
> 
> When had you gotten so close to Ace?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a BIG BOY chapter. 
> 
> Thank you for all your lovely comments!! I always love to know how you think of my writing and which parts of it made it fun to read for you all; and I added in an entire part just because you motivated me so much!! I hope you like this second-to-last chapter :)

You try to not get your hopes up that the island of Alexandria and Alexandria, Egypt were one and the same. Regardless of what you tell yourself, you end up standing slightly disappointed when you see an infrastructure not at all resembling the Library of Alexandria whose architecture was built on water and rose high like an obelisk. The feeling fades quickly when you enter the library and see floors on floors with stretches of books within mahogany shelves.

Beauty aside, it is nostalgic to think you used to spend hours in libraries, studying single-mindedly for an exam. You look up and gaze up to see the glass roof that illuminates the entire library.

Then, you begin the search-- though you're at a loss of where to even start. How were you going to search for a way to get back home?

"The place you're from," Ace says to you when you enter, "is called Orange, right?"

"Yeah," you reply, feeling the growing panic begin to subside as he roots you down to a solution. "You're right. I can't believe you remembered."

Ace shrugs, but you feel flattered anyhow to have such an attentive listener when you were talking about your home. You almost miss the way Izo and Thatch-- or really, all of the commanders that went with you to help-- glance at each other knowingly. For your own good, you decide not to ask about it.

"Are there magical artifacts?" You ask instead, taking out a rather large catalogue that would have fallen on your head if not for Kingdew, the 11th division commander, that took it from your small hands. He looks at you with a raised brow as you smile up at him sheepishly, promising him to use a stepladder next time. His cape billows behind him as he singlehandedly carries the thick book to an empty table that Rakuyo, the 7th division commander, had claimed for the Whitebeard Pirates.

You find amusement in how most other people in the library, whether out of fear or courtesy, ignore their presence, regardless at how notorious their band of pirates were and how unusual they looked in a setting like this.

"Similar to devil fruits?" Rakuyo responded, pulling at his mustache, "They're basically magic, considering what it can do and how little we know how it works.” He watches as Kingdew sets the catalogue specifically dedicated to “Forbidden Artifacts” and understands. “Do you think the way you got here is by something along the lines of magic?"

"I don't know if I'm from here," you explain. “Even the geography is very different.”

"So you're telling me you don't have the Calm Belt, the Red Line, or the six seas?" Thatch asks in disbelief, peeking his head from behind a shelf.

"Well, I guess we have something called the equator," you admit, eyes scanning over books. “That could technically be the Red Line, but…”

"But you have five oceans, right?" Ace adds, making you nod. He passes a few books to Namur, the sole fishman commander, who languidly walks to the table to place them on.

Rakuyo glances at the books and reads the titles: “Cultures of Islands Around the Seas”, “Ocean History,” and “Theory of the World’s Beginning.” He doesn’t know how Ace picked these books out and glances at him in mild confusion.

"And five-- what did you call them?" Ace thinks for a moment. "Continents?"

Impressed that he remembers such a passing detail like that-- you don’t even remember mentioning it, let alone anticipating that he would retain that information-- you nod in confirmation. "Where I'm at,” you say to the other commanders, “the stretches of land are pretty long and there aren't as many islands as you have here. So I’m guessing some devil fruit or something got me here… or something.”

“‘Or something,’” Rakuyo agrees, growing more confused when Namur comes back with more books Rakuyo isn’t sure is even relevant to whatever Ace and you were discussing. Before he can decide whether or not to speak up, you walk up to the table that had already begun to stack with book and beam at the selection.

“You were wondering more about Fishman Island, right?” Namur says gruffly, “I figured this was the best way to feed your interest until we visit it again.”

“I appreciate it,” you say softly, opening the books and seeing with wonderment illustrations of the deep sea and the beautiful sea forest.

“Don’t mention it,” the fishman replies, albeit embarrassed. He looks away and scowls when he sees Vista grin at him. “Ace and Jimbei keeps on reminding all of us that you really want to visit it.”

"Wow, Ace, you’re pretty attentive, aren’t you?" Thatch remarks, purposely giving the two of you a knowing glance you rolled your eyes at.

"I guess," Ace replies wryly. "But Jimbei also remembered that too, and this was months ago."

“Aw, our little Ace feeling _shy--?”_

Thatch immediately winces when the librarian of this floor sharply reprimands him with a “shh,” and he watches her walk away before turning back to Ace who grinned at him.

You let your giggles subside as you turn the pages of the book, reading fondly about the island that held a lot of your adoration and thinking more fondly about the commanders that had come here to help find your way back home but also find ways to make you happy.

“How’s this one?” Izo interjects, putting down the book onto the table as an offering with a proud smirk on his face. “Looks quite informative, if I do say so myself.” Everyone gathers around the table to read the title: “Catalogued Devil Fruits and Their Powers.” Simultaneously, you all murmur a consensus that this was a good book.

“You’re sweating,” Kingdew deadpans, the apparent baby-sitter for today’s group as Marco was absent from this venture. “Did you just run to get this book--”

“The librarian didn’t catch me in time.”

“When did this become a competition?” You question, and you look up to see Blamenco, the 6th division commander, tap your shoulder gently.

“Now, now, we all just want to help you,” he says kindly to you. “Let me know which books you would like to take; I’ll carry them back to the ship.”

You blink. “You mean, by yourself? Where--”

Blamenco proceeds to demonstrate by somehow shrinking the book as he puts it into the small pocket-like patch on his body, storing book after book inside him before pausing. “Ah, wait, we have to check these out,” he says, and then takes the books out one by one. You continue to stand there, mesmerized.

“How does he--”

“He can fit a hammer five times your size in his pocket,” Vista says, patting you on the head. “A few books won’t make much of a difference.” He takes one good look at your bewilderment and explains in the fewest words possible. “Devil fruit.”

You place your fist into your open palm in realization. “Oh, so that’s what it was,” you say.

_“What else did you think it was?”_

You smile sheepishly at the librarian who immediately shushed the entirety of the commanders whose reaction was either to pretend like they never made the outburst or act modest enough to look abashed. “Anyhow,” you say, coughing in your hands to hide your laughter. “I think the books about devil fruits would be a good place to start, and maybe the “Mysterious Islands” Anthology and maybe--?”

“How about this one?” Ace suddenly pipes up, flipping to a page in one of the books he found. You watch with amusement as he frantically scrolls through before grinning up at you. “This is the flower your name is based off of, right?” And you look at the colored illustration he shows you and feel your cheeks heat in appreciation when you see the bright red epiphyllum detailed into the book. 

You had told him that your namesake was a reminder of your parent's love for you; having him remember this detail in particular warms your heart in ways you couldn't describe.

You smile and take the book, loving the way Ace not only knows about you, but knows you as well. "Let's take that too," you say, carrying the book into your hands.

 

Just as he knows you, you don't realize how much you actually know about Ace until the commanders stare at you with blank faces when dinner rolls around.

"Ace has a brother?" Jozu repeats, looking at Ace to confirm. "You have a brother?"

"Yeah," Ace replies, shoveling food into his mouth. "A real idiot, but he has this certain charm to him, you know. He’s supposed to be setting off on his own in a year.” He swallows the food. “He’s three years younger than me.”

“He’s going to be a pirate too?” Izo gapes, “What’s his name?”

“His name--”

As if on cue, Ace falls asleep into his food. The only solace you can take is the fact that today the menu was fried rice; you’re pretty sure he can’t drown in that.

Automatically, you steal the fork from his hand and take a bite before putting the fork right back. You wipe your mouth and continue eating your own food as if nothing happened. The Whitebeard Pirates stare at you, and you feel a slight deja vu when you remember they looked at you and Ace the same way in the library.

“I steal his stuff when he falls asleep!” You defended yourself, wondering why they were so indignant when you know they saw you take his stuff all the time as a running gag. You frown when they don’t respond. “It’s funny!”

 _“That’s not the point!”_ They all collective told you, and you feel that them screaming at you in unison was going to be a habit from now on.

You blinked. “Oh, well, then… his brother’s name is Luffy--”

“No, no,” Izo says, waving his hand back and forth with an exasperated expression. “That’s not what we’re talking about, though it’s nice to know his brother’s name--”

"I see the two of you are getting close," Thatch purrs, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“ _Oh, that.”_ You fidget when they all stare at you, waiting for an explanation when you really had none. "We talk a lot,” you say hesitantly. “Didn’t he ask you questions in the beginning too? To get to know you better?"

Vista looks thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head. "No, I don't think he did.” He says casually, “It was all a blur to me, really. He tried attacking Pops--"

You choke on the water you drank, having forgotten that happened.

"--for quite a while, actually,” the floral swordsman remarks. “Joined the crew, became 2nd Division Commander, and became part of our family." Vista turns his gaze onto you knowingly. "You're the only one he's asked about."

"He wants to help me," you think to say, though you aren't sure that would go over well considering you know how much _everyone_ wanted to help you, and how much they did already. "I am basically from another world," you say instead, wondering why it starts to feel more like making excuses. "I think that would make for a pretty good conversation."

"I suppose," Vista concludes, mercifully letting the topic go.

"Or maybe," Izo says with a sly smile, as he sidles up to you and puts a friendly arm around yours shoulders, "you’re just a little special to him."

You don't think you are, because you have seen the way Ace is kind and know you aren’t the only one he has helped. And you find yourself being okay with it, because if it meant you could be his friend through thick and thin, then there really wasn’t anything else you could have asked for.

And whatever else you wanted out of this relationship or whatever the rest of the Whitebeard commanders were betting on wasn’t something you were going to dwell on.

Not one to waste an opportunity, Thatch pulls out a black marker, and you grin at him in return. When Ace wakes up, it’s a whole hour of everyone acting as if he didn’t have a bird drawn on his forehead (by yours truly) and swirls on his cheeks until he looks into a mirror and begins chasing the two of you down. Your shrieks of laughter overlay with the sounds of Ace’s yells, and you feel happy enough to know you’re close enough to laugh with him.

 

Still, it is curious to know that you were the only one he inquired regarding where you came from. Maybe it was because you’re not from here or maybe it was nothing, but either way, you wanted to know.

"Ace," you start carefully, as you swing your legs at the top of the mast. "Why did you ask me about my home?” Ace puts down the telescope he was looking through to glance in your direction. You elaborate, “Apparently you don't really do the same for anyone else so I was just wondering.”

You aren't sure what you expected-- maybe some resistance or vague responses. So when he tells you immediately with no hesitation, you are already taken aback.

“I thought it would help,” he says, and your eyes widen, “that maybe you wanted to talk to someone about where you came from and what your life was like, but didn’t want to bother anyone by talking first.”

You open your mouth in response but found that you didn’t know what to say. You gape at him for a while, and you suppose the scrutiny was uncharacteristic enough for you that he turned around, looking flustered. “You know,” he mutters, “you don’t have to look at me like you’re so surprised.”

“But I am,” you reply, and you wish you were able to express how much that gesture meant to you and how much that gesture made you feel like you were understood. You quickly amend yourself when he begins to grumble. “But it’s because I’m happy,” you begin to say, feeling your face heat up from embarrassment, “that you did that for me.” Now that it was his turn to look at you, you turn around to face the sea instead.

“And because you’re right,” you say. “I wouldn’t have talked to anyone about my parents or my dog or my friends if you had never asked, so…” You lower your gaze and quietly say over the sound of your loud heartbeat, “Thanks, Ace.”

"...It's really nothing," he says after a short pause, and he takes a seat next to you in the mast. “You’re _nakama_ , aren’t you?”

You can’t help the smile that slowly grew on your face when you hear him speak. You turn to him and playfully knock your shoulders into his, watching him fondly as the orange light of the sunset paints him with warm overtones. “I guess I am,” you tell him, and he grins back at you, happy with the answer.

“Also,” you start, and Ace looks over to you with a curious expression. You turn your entire body toward him in preparation for this question. “Why doesn’t anyone know you have brothers?”

He blinks once before his eyes widen in understanding. “Oh, you mean the other day?” Ace trails off, “I guess the topic never came up; I would have told them about it sooner or later when Luffy finally set sail.”

You laugh, much to his confusion. Your eyes twinkle with mirth. “I guess we’re more alike than we realize,” you say. “Low-key kind of private, huh? Maybe they should start asking you some questions too!”

At this, Ace waves his hand dismissively. “Nah, they wouldn’t do that,” he says. “They basically know most of it from my old crew so there’s no reason to. Besides, you didn’t try fighting them when you first met them.”

“Did you try fighting _all_ of them?”

“No,” Ace replies with a grin. “But enough for Pops to notice.”

“Problem child,” you mutter, and you grin when you hear Ace snicker in agreement. “I’m sure they’d want to know more about you too, you know,” you say, putting your chin between the wooden rails of the mast. You close your eyes and feel the wind brush over your face like a gentle caress.

“...You think?” Ace replies quietly.

You look over to him and shove his shoulders in a half tease-half reprimand. “I know,” you tell him firmly. “They love you, you know.” You feel your face begin to redden again when you think about how much you wanted to say ‘we love you’ instead.

It’s quiet for a brief moment as the both of you comfortably watch the sun set behind the horizon. It isn’t until Ace speaks again, that there is any words exchanged at all.

“You're the only one who really knows I have _two_ brothers,” he says.

Your heart leaps at the confession as you stare at Ace with wide eyes, and a laugh escapes you as you scramble to keep yourself nonchalant. “Is it because I _asked_ ?” You joke lightly, only to have your breath hitch when Ace looks at you and gently tilts his head.

“No,” he says, eyes as warm as ever, “it’s because _you_ asked.”

You watched as he turned back toward the sun, and you continued to watch over him quietly as the sun set and the stars emerged to arrange themselves and carve his name into your heart.

 

 

You love Ace (platonically, you insisted, though the way Thatch and Izo leer at you when Ace is near tells you they know differently), but sometimes, he was a dumbass.

Not that he wasn't amazing on many fronts. Ace is tactical in battle, devious and adaptive. He's one of the youngest commanders for a reason, and it isn’t just because of his battle prowess or his title as a super rookie. And he’s only nineteen, you had thought blearily, remembering your own age. You were barely any older than him and yet the experience gap was unfathomable.

Granted, Ace was not book-smart, though you are sure he could be if he wanted to. You have that at least-- being used to learning for hours on straight and pouring hours into textbooks for the sake of knowledge.

Still, Ace easily overcomes what he lacks by simply being good. You have had the pleasure to see the impact he has made on others, and what he has done for others out of sheer kindness of heart. It is not like most others, including yourself, who sometimes hesitates to help; for Ace, kindness is second nature, like walking or breathing.

You know very well that this could be an exaggeration on your part. But in your heart of hearts, you hope he is as kind as you see him because he inspires you to be better. You aren't sure what this implicates, but it does tell you at least that like many others who have had the opportunity to know Ace, your life has ever so brightened because of him.

For a man so considerate and in-tune with the needs of others, Ace baffles you again and again with how _stupidly_ dense he can be.

You watch with a blank face as a beautiful woman with raven hair down to her hip wraps her arms around his torso and very obviously-- almost painfully so-- presents her (double-D, triple D? you guessed) breasts to him.

She's flirting with him, you think in exasperation. Or propositioning him-- though it feels a little early in the day for that sort of invitation. Though, you aren't about to lie to yourself that Ace wasn't a very _shirtless_ , attractive man-- and when did sex ever have a scheduled time?

You wave away your running thoughts and immediately wish you weren't watching when Ace looks down at her, mildly confused with his hands full of grocery bags.

"...May I help you?" He asks politely, and you feel almost fall over in shock at the nonchalant reaction.

The woman, not to be deterred by the lack of interest, traces her finger on his chest, looking up with half-lidded eyes and bitten lips. (You bristle at this. There’s something predatory in the way she looks at Ace and you didn’t like it.) "Absolutely," she replies, almost purring, "there's _definitely_ something you can do to help me out right now."

In the back of your mind, you vaguely think how Thatch would have loved to be in Ace's position, but you feel a heat rise up from your chest to propel you forward to interrupt.

You walk up to the two of them, taking in a brief sense of pleasure when Ace immediately looks at you, sparing zero thought to the woman hanging off of him. "Hey, Ace," you say, casually, lugging a brown bag of vegetables at your side.

Upon seeing you, Ace's expression immediately brightens, and if he had an extra hand, he would have raised it to wave. You glance at the woman and resist the urge to preen when she realizes she has long lost his attention. "You done with the market then?" Ace asks you, apologizing to the woman as he untangles from her grasp, much to her chagrin.

"Yeah," you reply shortly, showing him the bag in your hand. You press your lips together awkwardly, unsure on what to do now that Ace was relatively free, truly uninterested, and the woman looked like she wanted to murder you. "Uh, Ace, you wanna head out?" You trail off when the glower of the woman's face darkened. "...Or maybe tell her you're not interested?"

Ace blinks at you.

"...What--"

"What's your problem?" The woman finally snaps, marching up to you and shoving a finger in your face. You note briefly that she has green eyes-- beautiful, really, if only they weren't glaring at you-- before she starts to scream at you, "Mind your own business!"

Any other time, you would have commended Ace for attracting such beautiful women, as he often did, but if he would just reject them on his own then you wouldn't have to. “Look, I’m sorry, but he’s really not interested," you say, hooking your arms with Ace. You ignore the way he glances at you curiously. "So if you would excuse us--"

"Are you his girlfriend or something?” She sneers, and her tone makes you bristle indignation. You open your mouth, ready to spit vitriol at her when the woman throws her head back to laugh. “Actually, you know, what?” She says, shrugging. “It doesn't matter to me whether you are or not. I _always_ get what I want!” She does not give you a moment to let the ominous phrase sink in, because she snaps her fingers and suddenly she’s flanked by men in black suits.

(You would think later how much the entire scene was so much in tune with the rest of one Piece. What were the odds that a woman happened to be in charge of a whole mafia? That really came out of nowhere, didn’t it? Or, you suppose, that was actually a gun in her pocket all along.)

It takes you approximately half a second before you tug at Ace’s arm (again, why does this keep happening?) and sprint off in the opposite direction.

“After them!” You hear her command, and you feel a surge of extra motivation to run even faster. You are grateful for Haruta, for once, for forcing you to run for miles on the ship; you had the stamina to run forever now, it seems.

Still, no one ever taught you how to stay calm when you’re being shot at. You hear several more gunshots in the background and you screech while Ace snickers, easily running away from the crowd with you. The bags of groceries crunch in protest at being handled so roughly, but at this point, you hardly cared.

"And here everyone thought I was the only one to cause trouble,” Ace tells you as you frantically look left and right before deciding to drag him left towards the farmland.

Without looking at him, you already know Ace is looking at you smugly. You bluster, taking a moment to properly glare at him, "Shut up! This is your fault too!"

A particularly close gunshot has you darting down before dragging Ace behind you again. You brush away tall wheat plants with a wince, making jerky turns in the field once in a while to make sure they lost your tracks. You miss his expression when he sputters, trying to think of a reply. " _Huh_ ? How in the world was this _my_ fault this time?”

"For being hot!” You yell, spinning around to face him before realizing how loudly you said that and dropping your voice into an angry whisper. You duck down with Ace and jab at his chest for emphasis. “And for being _dumb!_ "

For a brief moment, the only sounds are the distant gunshots and your heavy breathing. You crouch with Ace, looking up warily to make sure that no one surprised them as they hid. You look at Ace whose brows were pinched together, and suddenly you find yourself yet another reason to panic because-- was it _weird_ that you told him he was attractive? Because you suppose it is, considering the family dynamic, but you have never called Ace your brother because _\-- well--_

"But I am hot,” Ace says, blinking. “I’m literally made of fire,” he stresses, and for a moment you think he's joking, but he continues looking at you with a serious expression and you groan. He glares at you. “And I’m not dumb!"

The deadpan you give him is probably not warranted, because as you know, Ace really isn’t. But sometimes he really make you wonder.

“I’m not!” He argues, and you press your hand to his mouth with a hard stare-- were you the only one concerned with the fact that a whole mob of dangerous killers were after them? You take your hand off quickly before Ace licks it out of spite.

“You’re _dense_ ,” you relent to him. "You really didn't know she was hitting on you?"

Ace makes a face as if he was just realizing and you sigh. "So that's why she was doing that," he remarks, shrugging. “I guess I don't really pay attention if I'm not actively looking for it,” Ace says simply, making you fume.

To your surprise, he grins at you. "You’re getting pretty worked up over this, huh?"

You feel your face flush as you scramble for a proper answer. “Because-- Because I always have to drag you out of that situation every time,” you retort, shoving Ace away as his grin widens. “You know how much easier it would be if you just noticed and told them you’re not interested? That way, they won't think I'm just stealing you away and hate me! Their glares are scary, okay! This one was especially scary because she turned out to be some mafia leader--” Embarrassed, you glare at Ace, who muffles his laughter into his hand.

"Sorry, sorry,” he says, though the mirth in his eyes say otherwise. “It's just funny seeing you so mad.”

“Well, I’m glad my suffering brings you so much joy--”

Ace grins at you. “It's pretty cute,” he tells you without hesitation.

Your face reddens without warning. "Wh--"

_“Hey! I heard something over here!!”  
_

Ace snaps to attention when he hears footsteps, and he pulls you closer to him, looking over his shoulder for anyone coming. You place your hand on his arm instinctively and crane your head to the side to listen carefully as well.

_"Did you find them?"_

_"--went over here--"_

"--they go?"

 

Eventually, the voices dissipate as the two of you wait. And the both of you listen intently to the sound of any voices or gunshots in the distance. You aren’t sure how long you waited for with Ace in the patch of shade provided by the wheat field, but you were starting to feel a cramp in your legs from crouching so you decided that it was long enough.

You sigh in relief, leaning against Ace's arm. "Ace--"

"Looks like they're gone--"

Ace stops abruptly when he turns around to look at you with a strangely young expression, as if this is the first time he's seen you. His body is turned toward you while his arms curl around your back to rest his hand comfortably on your waist. Your body rests close enough to his that if you just turned your head, you could bury your face into the crook of his neck.

Under the privacy of the shade, it is a far more intimate moment than either of you anticipated.

Your mind jumbles on an appropriate response to this situation as you’re much too aware of how _warm_ his skin feels on yours.

And in the middle of it all, there was a moment of clarity.

You were jealous. Ridiculous as you may believe, that was the only reason you could think of for putting such a stubborn defense against the raven-haired woman. You think of other times this has happened, when Ace was approached by someone else; you had never directly interfered with his encounters, but you were always there to urge him back to him.

An indirect claim.

It just so happened that this time there was a little more trouble along the way, but it was just funny to think you had been subconsciously fighting for him without even realizing why.

The realization makes you laugh under your breath, which attracts Ace's attention and makes him follow after your smile. “...You have a lot of freckles,” you quietly comment, a burst of affection coursing through you. You raise one of your hands to brush away a stray hair from his face, fingers gently tracing over his cheek. You feel your heartbeat through your ears when his eyes flutter closed.

You wonder abruptly if he knew how much you like him.

And the thought is alarming enough to not only wake you from the haze of whatever _that_ was-- but to also make you panic because _what_ were you about to do with your _best friend_ who _definitely_ didn't know you liked him that way?

You squeeze his nose with your fingertips.

As an unintended consequence, you watch in amusement as Ace yelps and jerks backwards only to land on his behind. You burst into laughter when he recovers and shoots you a dirty look that only makes you giggle more.

"What was that for?" He asks, rubbing his nose.

You laugh again and pick yourself up from the ground slowly, double checking that the fields were empty. "I just…" You say, gazing at him fondly, "I just felt like it."

Ace grumbles in response, but you only grin in return and hook arms with him, as you normally did. "Time to get home," you tell him, feeling strangely muted for a moment. "Hopefully the eggs aren't--"

The two of you meet eyes for a moment before looking at one of the bags Ace held. You look back at him before the laughter bubbling in your chest joins Ace as he doubles down in laughter.

"The eggs," you snort before falling into giggles again. You hold your sides and wipe away tears of laughter. "We had three cartons of eggs--"

"Marco," Ace wheezes in between fits of laughter, "is going to _murder_ us."

 _"Oh god,_ " you moan, still laughing. "Even _Thatch_ is going to kill us." You put a hand on his shoulder for support as you continue to snicker out, "That's so many _eggs_."

"We're sorry we wasted your time and labor, Marco's cousins!" Ace bemoans. The two of you give each other an equally horrified look before breaking down into uncontrollable guffaws.

You watch Ace with a tender gaze as that light feeling of affection rises in your chest again. Just as you stop laughing, it begins again. "Marco is _definitely_ going to kill us,” you vouch.

 

"I'm going to kill the both of you," Marco promises, making the two of you kneel in front of him. "Shut up, Ace," he deadpans, and Ace lowers his hand without saying a word. You hold in a snicker at seeing Ace being chastised like a child, thinking against it when you remember that you were supposed to be in trouble, and this time, you actually felt bad.

"I'm sorry, Marco," you say, cheeks red in embarrassment. You had expected to be lectured; it just didn’t seem so bad when you were laughing your head off.

At this, Marco only sighs. "Just tell me what happened. And not from you, Ace," he says, pointing at the fire man as he lowers his hand again.

You explain to the 1st Division Commander about how the two of you were about to finish up shopping when a woman approaches Ace. “You know how it is,” you say, smiling sheepishly. “Women just sort of hold onto Ace and don’t let go.”

“Sounds like a certain someone--"

You shoot Thatch a sharp glare that makes him turn his head upwards and whistle, feigning innocence.

“Anyhow, he wasn’t interested, so I politely told her to leave.” You pause. “Turns out, she’s part of the _mafia_ , so she calls in her goons to chase us--”

“It blows my mind how the two of you can get into these kinds of situations so easily,” Marco states, sighing again for the third time in the last ten minutes. “Remind me not to pair you up with Ace if you ever volunteer to do our shopping for us.”

“So this is my fault again?!”

“Well, it’s your fault for being such a lady-killer, isn’t it?” Thatch teases, which only goes to deepen the frown on Ace’s face. The chef pats his back comfortingly. “I’m kidding, Ace. Though, I have to say…” Thatch shoots you an intentful glance, raising his brow in question. You glare back at him, not sure what he’s trying to do but knowing you probably won’t like it. He says to Ace, “Aren’t you usually pretty down for, uh, _little fun?"_ You roll your eyes as he wags his eyebrows

Ace only looks at you before looking at Thatch in mild confusion. “But I was with her,” he says.

You feel an unfounded twang of hurt reverberate through your chest as you interpret yourself as being a nuisance. When the moment passes, you’re left unbalanced, because Ace wasn't that type of person to ever believe you were a bother, especially if he insisted on spending time with you; he doesn't do anything he doesn't want to. You find yourself feeling a tad annoyed you even thought of that and scold yourself for mischaracterizing Ace.

"I can always just go back by myself next time,” you tell him, though you dislike the thought of Ace leaving you to sleep with another person. But you had no such claim on him, and it was only fair if you said, "You shouldn't have to hold back just because you're with me."

“But I'm not.” Ace insists, and your irritation is immediately soothed by his straightforward mannerisms. “I really wasn’t interested in her-- or any of the other people we met either.”

You blink and tilt your head, truly curious. "Why not?" You ask.

Ace returns your confused look. "I wanted to spend time with _you_ ," he says, as if that was the only answer he could have given.

_Oh.  
_

You blush as the men who overheard the conversation (mainly Thatch) hooted in response to Ace’s declaration. “I-- okay,” you stammer, wishing your face wasn't reddening in a tell-tale sign of feelings. "I'm… glad. I like to spend time with you too," you say with sincerity before turning around to glare at the crew whose grin only widened. _“Could you not?”  
_

“Ah, Ace,” Thatch waxed, putting a hand on Ace’s shoulder and the other stretched to the sky, “you truly have a way with words, don't you, you Casanova!"

It’s quite a combination when all three of you-- Ace, Marco, and you-- stare exasperatedly at the cook.

“What do you mean?” Ace asks.

“Look, Ace…” Thatch brings him around, as if walking in circles would jog some realization into Ace’s head. You and Marco stand side-by-side, watching with mild amusement as they walked in a six feet radius. Thatch pokes at Ace’s chest. “All those women that approached you-- they probably wanted more from you."

“More… of what?”

“I can see what you’ve had to put up with,” Marco drawls to you, earning the ire of Ace’s glare for a brief moment when you place your hands to your heart and pretend to be touched by his understanding.

“A relationship!” Thatch exclaims. He kneels on the ground, dramatically throwing his hands up. “A romantic, _I-love-you, let’s-get-married,_ relationship! You can just ask Vista-- he’s got his share of passionate romances, right, Vista?”

All four heads turn toward the top-hatted swordsman who was passing by. “A true man,” Vista begins somberly, “does not gossip about his past romantic endeavors.”

“Fine, fine, I get it,” Thatch says, heaving a big sigh. “You don’t kiss and tell.”

“Vista is a classy man,” Izo agrees, making Vista burst into laughter.

Ace hums, putting his chin on his hand, and everyone’s attention turns to him once more.

"Why would they want that sort of thing with me?" He asks.

"Why wouldn't they?" You reply, only to hide your face when Thatch looks at you like a cat that caught its prey.

“I don't really get it, but I guess I’m not really interested in those kinds of things." He pauses thoughtfully, and you tilt your head slightly in confusion when he glances at you for a second before looking embarrassed. "Well,” he says, “not with strangers anyways."

The confession blows you out of the water, and when you look at the others to see a surprised expression, you figure that it’s not just you. Your heartbeat quickens at the implication of his words, and that glance; and with what happened today--

“Wait,” you begin, strained, _“Ace--”_

“My little brother’s growing up!!” Thatch cries out, throwing out his arms to envelop Ace into a hug. Izo thinks the same, running up to them and joining in on the impromptu congratulatory embrace for something you don’t really understand. Marco looks at the three teetering back and forth dangerously with the exasperation and fondness of an eldest brother.

Vista decides to stand next to you, watching them with equal amusement. To your surprise, he puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. You crane your neck to look up at him, intending to ask him about dinner plans when he pats you twice. “Good luck,” he says, shooting you a quick grin before turning around and heading back to the deck.

You don’t know how to respond to that, and once again, you are left without words.

Still, you take those words in stride as your gaze falls back on the three, who had long fallen on the ground, mainly because Ace had fallen asleep again. You look at Ace’s sleeping figure fondly and wonder if he would notice if you stole his gun this time. 


	5. somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things feel better, and some things don't, but at least you have a family that's here for you.
> 
> alternatively: it's a slow and steady process, falling in love Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The LAST time I posted was AGES ago and I finally had time to write during a reprieve for school. Thank you all so SO much for commenting on this fic and leaving kudos! I never forgot about all of you and I hope you know that your support does go a long way! I wrote as much as I could on this last chapter to end it up as best as I could. I hope you enjoy this one as well!

You now have more brothers and sisters than you can count. 

The Whitebeard Pirates are, by far, not the kind of siblings you would have thought to have-- but you are certainly not one to complain.

For one, you’re one of the youngest, if not _the_ youngest crew member had it not been for Ace. It’s also not hard to see that the crew groups Ace and you together simply because of your ages. Though you have to admit that it wasn’t just your age; your surprising propensity for trouble complements Ace very well, much to Marco’s chagrin. 

(You never thought you had it in you for mischief. You also never thought you would fall for a person younger than you, but here you were.) 

To say you were the ‘baby’ of the family would be an accurate description. While they all trust you, which was a blessing in itself, it’s clear to see they dote on you much more than they would, say, Thatch. 

As the youngest, you practically have an army of older siblings all with a dying need to guide and help you. You imagine, however, if you ever did have an older brother in your life before your sudden career as a pirate, he wouldn’t teach you have to pick a lock (courtesy of Haruta), or shoot a rifle (Izo), or be your dance partner for salsa every weekend. (Vista had a flair for dancing; the roses should have given you a hint but you were surprised anyway.)

And once in a while, Namur or Rakuyo give you a book that talks about magic or portals or other dimensions just in case it would help you find your home. Most of them are more similar to myths and fables than anything, but knowing that you were in their thoughts and that they weren’t giving up on taking you home gave you more hope than you could possibly imagine.

While unconventional, the Whitebeard pirates were everything you would have wanted in a family: supportive, kind, and patient.

Just as they have grown on you, you like to think you’ve grown on them as well. No one is disinclined to your hugs or your friendly ribbing. It’s easy being with them-- and if you had to admit, it was a tad bit frightening how well they already knew you in the few months you’ve been here.

Though Marco would disagree. 

“You’re a pretty private person, aren’t you?” He muses over dinner, making you look up at him mid-chew. “You don’t talk about yourself much.”

You open your mouth to reply, only to think that technically, Marco isn’t wrong. You wish you could say you were as open with your feelings as you were with your affection. It’s not to say you don’t want to share things or you don’t want them to know; it’s just hard for _you_ to bring up hard topics that still leave you with a tight throat.

Having Ace slowly sift through details of your life before with stories about your home, parents, and dog did make it easier for you to talk about it. It makes your cheeks warm when you think to that fact that he was the exception to it all; the one that broke through your metaphorical barriers. But in all honesty, it still hurts when you try to bring up your life before you woke up on that island. 

Whenever you want to relate a story back to your life at the university or your grandparents back at home, your heart clenches painfully and you swallow the words back down. In some ways, when you regale about your house or your classes or your friends when Ace asks, it feels more like telling a story of someone else’s life. It’s less painful if it’s less of a memory and more of an answer to a question.

But the Whitebeard pirates would understand as much if you told them. And that thought alone makes you speak up.

“It’s, um, it’s still kind of,” you begin, looking down at your half-empty plate, “kind of hard to talk about… things. Sometimes...” 

You note the silence and stammer, “But-- But I don’t mind if you ask me because it’s not like I don’t want to tell you...” You trail off as you look up, watching Izo take out his handkerchief to delicately dab at his eyes without smearing his make-up. “Uh… what--”

And suddenly you’re bombarded with _you know we love you, right?_ or _you don’t have to say anything at all, just be happy, okay?_ You throw a wad of tissues at Thatch when he throws in a "Why are you acting all cute all of a sudden, huh?"

“You don’t have to tell us your life story,” Marco says gently with a smile after he sees you scowling at the pompadour cook. “No one is going to force you to do anything.” He gives you a smile like an indulging older brother. “But we’d like to know things like when your birthday is, or if you like the color purple… just little things to know you better.” 

Jozu nods sagely. “That’s right. You’re all of our younger sister,” he says gruffly, and your heart warms as you look around and see the gentlest acceptance all-around. 

“I couldn’t have said it any better,” Thatch compliments, grinning widely, making Jozu snort. “So…” he continues, turning to you with an intense stare, “I have a really important question for you, okay?”

You blink and slowly lean back into your chair with suspicion. “Okay…”

“Do you,” he asks seriously, “like the color purple--”

Izo whacks him over the head. 

“Idiot!” He yells, blowing his nose into his handkerchief. “Ask her about her birthday!”

“Colors are important too!”

“We get jealous, you know,” Marco tells you over the noise with a teasing smile, “when Ace gets to hear all these things about you and we don’t.”

“Yeah, yeah! Screw Ace!” (Ace had wanted to protest about something earlier but he had just came back from a long mission so his narcolepsy was really kicking in.) Thatch winked. “Or screw him too, whichever you prefer-- _ow--!”_

Marco watches you with a careful gaze as you nod obediently, and he pats your head in endearment. “Good,” he says. “I just wanted to let you know. Take all the time you need.” You look up at him and smile gratefully, wondering what it would have been like having Marco as your older brother all this time.

“Okay, but seriously, how about the color red--”

_“Please read the room and ask your questions in a timely manner!”_

 

Marco was right when he said you kept some things close to your chest, but with Whitebeard, you feel less hesitant. He was a man larger than life (and larger than most people, actually), and if there was anyone who would accept you as you are, it would be someone like him. And you remember how he easily accepted Ace, regardless of his background and birthright, when it seemed when no one would, and you feel at ease. 

It isn’t a surprise that he’s the first one to hear you talk about your family without asking.

“My dad,” you say, the pang in your chest becoming less painful and more nostalgic, “wants to be a forest ranger when he retires.” You laugh, grinning at how ridiculous it may sound to an outsider and also at how nostalgic is felt to talk about it. The patient smile on Whitebeard’s face is enough to prompt you into continuing, though you look at the floorboards in embarrassment. “He’s always liked tall trees and weird plants, always taking pictures on his phone to show them to my mom.”

“I see your father was fond of plant life,” Whitebeard comments, and you mildly think how good he was at indulging in his children’s stories. “I assume he must have a garden he maintains?”

At this, you beam up at him, happy to have his attention and happy for someone to have an interest in getting to know someone you loved dearly. (You had to admit that the way you felt about sharing your life to Ace and Whitebeard differed, though you aren’t sure why.)

You don’t remember how long you talked because Whitebeard never seemed to bore of your conversations. Your words were streaming out like a broken dam, and soon it felt as if Whitebeard knew your parents just as well as you did. 

"Your parents must be good people,” he says to you, the skin at the side of his eyes crinkling as he smiles, “to have raised a daughter who loves them so much.”

He understands when you stop talking, and he gives you the gentlest of pats with his large hand as you wipe away a few stray tears. 

“Do you--” You swallow, blinking away the remaining tears in your eyes. Your heart beats loudly in your chest as you rasp out a question, “Do you think I’m trying hard enough to get back to them?” Your lips tremble. “Is it okay for me to be happy while I’m here?”

At this, Whitebeard looks down at you, eyes as deep as the ocean. You had given him plenty of questions, all of them eating you away as you sailed the seas for these short few months. You expected soothing words, reassuring you of your right to be happy and acknowledging your best efforts to return home. “Your loved ones know you well enough to understand what kind of person you are,” he answers instead, “and how much you truly love them.”

You lift up your head and watch the clouds pass over his head as you try to blink your tears away.

 

It gets easier to share stories with others from then on out. It is a gradual shift, but soon you’re talking about your best friend when the topic of art comes up or about the time you took karate for a little when martial arts was mentioned. It is easier to remember home when your heart doesn’t feel like it’s being squeezed-- and it’s easier falling back to speaking your mother language when you do.

It’s poetic, you think, to be able to feel closer to home once you found a home with the Whitebeard Pirates. And it must be a natural process, because you surely didn’t notice when you replace some words with your mother tongue or completely switched languages when you were exasperated. 

You finally find out when Ace and Thatch glance at each other after your quick tirade with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. 

You blink. “What?”

“Nothing,” Thatch almost says immediately. He grins at you when you give him an unhappy look. “Just… What did you just say? I couldn’t catch that.”

“Oh, I just said--” You blink, translating the words in your own head, only to realize that you hadn’t spoken English at all. “Oh,” you say again. “I guess I was speaking in something else, huh?”

“Something else?” Ace parrots, and your heart does a little flip when you see the interested gleam in his eyes. “Your hometown has another language?” 

You were no linguist, but you try your best to explain the uniqueness of cultures that extended beyond accents and cuisine. It was funny to think that your world could sound so foreign, but when you explain to them that each country had their own language-- an invention of words that were completely different but could mean the same thing-- you feel lucky to have known enough to cherish it.

Thatch opens his mouth.

"No, I don't want to teach you how to say profanity," you say blandly before he could continue.

Ace looks disappointed, more so than Thatch.

"Actually, I was thinking you could teach me how to talk dirty," Thatch replies with a smirk. "Woo the ladies in a different way--"

"I take whatever I just said back."

 

Your language comes easier to you as you practice with the crew, purposefully or not. Even with languages your not familiar with, but know a few words of, you are open to sharing-- happy to give another piece of your world to them. (And if you accidentally tell Vista a few phrases of the so-called “most romantic language,” you could hardly complain. Hearing him speak Spanish was strangely fitting.)

Some words hold more meaning than others, however. And when the word for father in your native tongue slips out when you refer to Whitebeard, you immediately clamp your mouth.

You don’t blame yourself for making the mistake of calling Whitebeard your father; the entire crew calls him by that nickname, so you were bound to repeat it. Having the word for father in your native tongue spoken into existence makes you remember a full head of grey hair and easy laughter, and you think your father wasn’t that different from Whitebeard after all. 

Funny how well you could distract yourself from sadness so easily, yet have it come hit you, all of a sudden, just as easily.

Your name is spoken and you look up at Whitebeard who only waits patiently for you. And you think to yourself you can have and love more than one father.

"Do you think," you ask, "I can call you 'Pops'?" 

The low chuckle and the gentle hand on your head was all you needed to know his answer. 

(You would think on this much later, but you realize eventually that this was the 'ultimate plan' that Izo and Whitebeard discussed when you first arrived. If you had known that you were going to be another part of the prolific adoption of the Whitebeard Pirates-- well, you suppose not much would have changed after all.)

 

It becomes a little game of theirs to see what sort of words you would let slip in your native tongue. And it delights you every time whenever they ask you to repeat so they can learn. 

It extends beyond just your native language. Sometimes your slang comes through and it's funny enough to hear the words like "yeet" thrown around unexpectedly. Not that you didn't have your fair share of assimilating to their language as well. Who would have thought you'd understand sailing lingo and pirate songs? And sound so threatening with the right string of words?

Still, the crew's attempts to understand you better through your culture is heartening on its own. But Ace (always Ace) goes the distance for you.

"You want me to…" you stammer, "teach you how to speak my language? Like, formally?"

You find yourself hard pressed to explain how much it means to you that he's asking in the first place when Ace looks at you sheepishly. "Is that too much?" He says, and your heart squeezes tightly in a burst of adoration. "I know you're already busy with the infirmary--"

“No!" You blurt out, surprising the both of you. You laugh reflexively, feeling your face heat up; it was embarrassing how much you appreciated his gesture. "I just-- I was just surprised to hear you say that."

It's hard to explain how warm it makes you feel to have someone try their hardest to get to know you, and the sheer effort Ace is willing to put in for you...

You press a hand to your cheek and glance away, overcome by your own feelings and trying to think over the loudness of your own heartbeat. “I think it’s really sweet you want to learn," you manage to say to him. 

(And if you had the courage to look up at him, you would have noticed the way his eyes softened as well as his heartachingly slow-growing smile.)

“You think?” Ace says, a little embarrassed, with a grin in his voice.

“Yeah," you tell him, beaming back at him. “But yes! I can teach you some things…” You trail off, glancing at him with mild suspicion. “But not profanity. I’m not going to let that be the first thing you learn--”

At this teasing jab, Ace pouts. "That's not what I was going to ask about first."

You laugh. “What would you ask for then?” You question, knowing full well you would not have the heart to turn him down regardless of what he requested.

“How to say please and thank you," he tells you, and your heart could not feel any fuller. "That's always a good place to start, right?"

 

Eventually word gets out that Ace is getting taught by you, and it becomes less of something private for the two of you and more of a classroom setting with a bunch of commanders. You couldn’t be bothered to be annoyed, especially not when you hear Haruta mutter under his breath with a few of your words scattered in-between. Seeing Izo practice his enunciation and Jozu with furrowed brow as he tried his best to listen was more than enough to make you feel like there was no other place you would rather be. 

It is late at night and you sit outside listening to the ocean waves and reading about the thoracic cavity when Ace plops himself right next to you. You glance over at him curiously, but when he says nothing, you only smile and turn the page of the book. The lamp above your head provides you just enough light to see the words. You’re grateful that the written language is no different from the spoken one or else you would have had to grapple with the fact that you’re actually illiterate in this world. 

You stretch your legs out in front of you and look over at Ace again, who watches the waves quietly, so you inch closer to the natural warmth he emits. The two of you stay there together, intimately quiet. For a while, you’re distracted by your book when you realize he has not said a word for a while. "What's wrong?" You ask, and he turns to you for a moment.

Ace only smiles at looks out into the waves, to the east. "I was just remembering my brothers," he says fondly. "We used to get into so much trouble together."

You close the book and set it aside, attention elsewhere. "Luffy and Sabo? How so?" 

Without pause, Ace regales you of the story of the ASL crew. The three of them would steal from the royals, climbing on each other's shoulders to act as an adult. They would dine and dash and escape every time, though he would always have to end up saving Luffy from getting hurt. "Sabo and I would always argue who was the older one," Ace recalls. "I argued that since I was taller, then it had to be me."

"Obviously," you respond, laughing when Ace pinches at your cheeks in revenge. You swat at his hand, smiling. "I wonder what it’s like to have younger siblings.”

At this, Ace glances at you, and you turn your head to meet his gaze. “What do you mean?” He says in confusion, “You do have siblings.” He then seems to realize something then nods. “Ah, right, younger siblings. That’s a little more difficult to have with us around.” 

You smile widely and think to Izo, Thatch, Haruta who consider you their younger sister and Whitebeard who considers you his child. You feel warm from the inside-out at the thought. You say, setting into your most comfortable position, “I guess I meant blood-related too. But I suppose the three of you weren’t related either.”

He lets your head fall on his shoulder as you snuggle into the blanket you brought with you. Ace nods in confirmation. He begins, "We stole some sake--" 

You mutter "typical" under your breath, making him snort in laughter. 

"Hey, what did you expect?" He jests, adjusting the blanket so that it wrapped more snugly around you. You feel him breathe in deeply, reminiscing a memory that was very obviously dear to him. Your eyes blink heavily as his comfortable heat and soothing tone lulls you into sleep. 

"You see," Ace says softly, "we couldn’t be more different. But that didn’t matter to us at all who we were or where we were from.” He chuckles, repeating his words from years ago, "'Don't you know? If we exchange a cup of sake, we can be brothers!'”

“Then why didn’t we drink to become siblings with everyone?” You mumble sleepily, making him shake with another bout of laughter.

You don’t have to look at him to know that he shoots you a quick dubious glance. “Would you be able to down more than a hundred shots?” 

You giggle into your covers, enjoying the heat that Ace gave off more than ever. “Can’t even do ten! It would have been fun to watch, though.” You close your eyes. 

“I’m glad we both have a good family, Ace,” you say quietly. 

Ace let his arm wrap behind your neck, and he pats your head comfortingly. “Yeah,” he agrees, voice sounding far, though you’re unsure who was drifting away. “I wonder…” he says, “how Luffy is doing now."

(You do not have the heart to convince him that both of his brothers are alive. But you keep hope that someday he’ll be able to find out without you telling.)

Slowly, you slip away into slumber, your book left forgotten as you dream of childhood and family in the warmth of someone you trust.

 

The homesickness never really goes away; it pops up suddenly in the dead of night, and you suspect that sort of feeling never really disappears. 

But then you remember instances like this, where you wake up in the morning, not knowing exactly how or when you got back into your bed, but knowing that at least someone on the crew-- Ace, Marco, Jozu-- saw you and cared enough to carry you back. You remember that Whitebeard, a man whose feet are probably half your size (now that’s an image), patiently listens to every story that comes to mind. And that if your brothers (all hundreds of them) had the time, they would listen too. You look at these people who’ve known you for only a few months, who have sworn to protect you and, well, love you. 

And sometimes, that’s all you need.

 

You walk out onto the deck to see the Whitebeard mark on Ace's back for a brief moment before Ace turns around, the orange hat you had bought him the other day sitting on his head. 

"Ready to go?" He asks you with a grin, bringing up the rope that tied down his specialized boat. 

You feel your heart soar, as it always seemed to do as you walked up to the man you were beginning to fall for. "Ready as I'll ever be," you reply, looking out into the ocean and laughingly remembering the time when you were once afraid to set sail.

You turn back to Ace and flash a grin. "Where are we headed?"

**Author's Note:**

> the beginning to something big that I planned and really hope I pull through and finish!!!


End file.
